#if you would prefer a peek into something more my usual fair please feel free to send another ask :)

[angst-fairygodmother]

🌹 plz. For anyone new you have if you have someone

Hello love, I don't have much that's new, that's likely to go on here. But I have been dabbling with both of my Baldur's Gate characters (there are so many little missing scenes to fill in, it's delicious). So, please enjoy a snippet from one of those, as I put my Gale-mancing cleric of Mystra through it:

“Did I choose the wrong goddess?” “What?” He seemed taken aback by her question, or maybe the wavering in her voice. Of course he was. She had been, as he already put it, their fearless leader, plunging onward without doubt or hesitation, fully confident even when it was a bluff. “I’ve been devout to Mystra since I was a child. I…I don't know who I’d be without her. But how can I, knowing that she would so easily ask someone to die just to please her, still give her that faith?”

[acertainmoshke]

I’m looking for beta readers!

I mentioned this before, but I’m going to make a separate post to see if I get any interest. If you aren’t interested I totally get it and that’s fine but please reblog this if you can so more people see it!

I usually write and talk about adult SFF, but this is not that. This is a low stakes realistic middle grade book about a disabled autistic girl making a new friend and learning to accept her needs. It’s only about 21k words and since I have a free account on betabooks, I’m looking for 3 people to read it and give feedback on plot coherency and interest level, mostly. It’s already been professionally edited and shouldn’t need much grammar work. I would also appreciate title suggestions—the working title is “Fae and Brownie,” but I’d like something more memorable.

Disclaimers: (1) it is in first person present tense (I know some people don’t like that) and (2) it is purposely exposition heavy to emphasize how she has to manually process concepts that are automatic for others. The only possible tw is “polite,” child-understandable levels of transphobia against her parent as part of the b-plot. Also, this is a story about disability pride—the point has nothing to do with her learning to behave or “be good.” (A disclaimer I now include after a shocking comment I got one time from a previous reader).

I’m happy to swap beta reading if anyone likes, but I’d prefer if whoever wants to read mine has at least some interest in and experience with children’s books.

I’m going to include a snippet from chapter 2 below the cut so you can decide if it sounds interesting. If you’re interested please DM me or reply/reblog this post. Thank you in advance!

Now Ms. Luna is on the floor in front of me, bent down like adults do to when they talk to little kids. Not 10-year-old kids, except they still do it to me. Mama says that if I stand up tall and smile and talk to people using the big words I do at home, they won’t think I’m like a little kid. I think she doesn’t understand school.

“Fae, we’re going to work on spelling worksheets. Can you come back to your desk, please?”

Ms. Luna doesn’t look angry. She doesn’t look sad. She doesn’t look anything. But I’m still scared to say no, because that can get me in trouble sometimes.

“Fae, come on. I know you like spelling, and I need you to participate, ok?”

I wonder if teachers ever get annoyed when they’re stuck with the really weird kids.

She won’t go away until I use words, so I say, slowly and carefully, “I want to stay here.”

“I know, but you’ve been here for over fifteen minutes and you can’t miss a whole lesson or you won’t know the words for Friday’s quiz.”

I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I peek over her shoulder and all the other kids are looking at me. Their eyes feel like lasers. I want to go home. And suddenly I’m angry, because it’s not fair. It’s not fair that I’m supposed to do as well as everyone else even though the world hurts me and not them. It’s not fair that people still talk to me like I’m in kindergarten. And it’s not fair that they always look at me like I’m a puzzle or a slug and not a person.

I hate being angry. My anger is red and liquid and fills me up until it overflows. I scream without meaning to. I want to scream “I hate you” but the words are stuck in my throat, and that makes me even more angry. I know better than to throw things, but all I want is to do what I’m not supposed to. I want Ms. Luna to hurt like I do.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: IV

“I had a few, got drunk on you

And now I’m wasted

And when I sleep, I’m gonna dream of 

How you tasted.”

— Medicine, Harry Styles

A/N: if i said i’m apologizing for the way i left off ch3, yes i did ❤️ no i didn’t ❤️ it was fun ❤️ as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!! and if you enjoy the piece, please reblog it!!! it keeps content creators motivated!! without further delay, hope you enjoy what’s in store for Sherlock and Watson this chapter cause it’s uhhhh quite a bit of uhhhh ~stuff~ 😌

harry’s condo : ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : ysijwa playlist

word count: 26.4k

content/warnings: a mild addiction to sexting, some pretty sparkly lingerie, a very interesting photo, a strange but satisfying gift, rough sex and degradation, pillow talk about the validity of the men in Twilight, the satisfying gift being put to even more good use, Y/N going over to Harry’s apartment for the first time, mild mentions of blood, and an impromptu Hamilton re-enactment amidst more lemon blueberry pancakes

///

For the next three days, the sexting grows more frequent. 

Harry feels somewhat humiliated by it, really. He’s an adult— a full-grown, two hundred and nine year old man— and trading nudes with a simple girl shouldn’t be getting him as worked up as it does. He should know how to handle his hormones better, and the thing is, he usually does. But no one in the last few centuries has made him feel as desperate as Y/N does; he hasn’t felt this helpless for someone since he was alive. The vampire just wasn’t prepared to handle the needy responses she so easily yields from his body and he’s horribly rusty on how to skate this thin sheet of metaphorical ice. It’s like he can feel it cracking and crunching beneath his feet, but he has absolutely no power over how to stop it. Any minute, it’s bound to take him under, and he has no choice but to allow himself to drown in it. 

The following seventy two hours are full of so many dirty promises and explicit images, his phone might as well be a porno hard drive.

After coaxing Y/N into a few orgasms through the phone and receiving just as many in return, a dangerous game is set into motion that Harry knows is probably unhealthy not only for his self-worth, but for the sensitivity of his anatomy. He can only get off so many times before his joints are begging for a break. 

He wakes up Wednesday morning with a stiff ache running along his inner thighs and ebbing across the underside of his balls, but there’s an undeniable contentment stewing behind it. He doesn’t truly mind the throb, comforted by the fact that Y/N is probably facing similar issues at the moment. He finds himself smiling coyly as he flips an omelette onto one of his marble-print platters, recalling the events from the night before. 

According to what he’d heard on the other end of the phone, present throughout the array of shaky gasps, cracked whimpers, and wet sounds of pleasure that had echoed from the speaker, Harry had made Y/N squirt. 

That was a tremendous stroke to his already huge ego. The idea that he’d been able to make her cum so hard that she’d soiled her brand new sheets had been circling around his head for the last couple of hours, fluffing his confidence. It’s a milestone achievement, to be honest. He’d done something that very few men have the skill to achieve in person, meanwhile he’d done it just by using his voice and extensive imagination. The arrogance he’s sporting right now is more than justified. His cheeks are starting to ache from how hard he’s grinning.

The vampire is so lost in his recollections that he nearly misses the chime of his phone, the unique ringtone that beeps out being as welcomed as ever. 

Harry scoops up his device while spooning a piece of his green pepper and mushroom egg dish into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he swipes into Y/N’s text conversation. He smoothers the giddiness fluttering in his stomach; he’s not a child. 

As it turns out, he’d killed those butterflies for no solid reason because the instant her message pops up, they come right back to life. 

Morning! Thought I’d show you what I’m planning on wearing to work today. 

Harry roughly swallows down his breakfast at the attachment following the caption, a shiver coiling down his spine. “Fucking hell.”

The photo is a mirror shot, taken in her tiny bathroom. It’s a full body image where she’s clad in a matching set of bra and panties, the material sparkly bright red lace. The bottoms are high-waisted, hugging her tummy and hips in a way he deems perfect, the lace decorating her skin beautifully. The bra is see-through, so he has an unrestrained view of her chest and he doesn’t know why, but he thinks he might love the way her breasts look in lingerie more than without it. Make no mistake, he’ll willingly drool over her no matter what, but there’s just such a refined beauty in seeing her figure in such an elegant piece. She’s like a present set out for him to unwrap, preferably with his teeth. 

Then he notices the garters and the next forkful of food lodges in his throat. They hug around her legs deliciously, the bands settled midway down her thighs as the straps run up the sides and clip onto the hem of her panties. Yeah, he would definitely use his teeth. 

After gawking at the artwork for a minute, Harry finally gathers himself enough to type back a decent reaction.

I’m pretty sure that outfit doesn’t apply to the workspace dress code. 

Y/N shakes her head in amusement at his response, giggling softly as she finishes shimmying into her black skinny jeans, buttoning them over the skimpy lace. 

I’ll cover up for the sake of the customers. But it’s just such a nice set, I figured someone else should get to appreciate it with me.  

Harry sets his utensil down on top of his plate, omelet only half eaten. His appetite has molded into a very different type of hunger. He pads out of the kitchen, feeling the ten AM sunlight filter through the glass wall of his living room and warm his bare chest and back. He heads for the bathroom that branches out of the entrance corridor, coming to a stop right in front of its mirror. He begins to clean up his appearance, combing his bed head into a presentable state (he hadn’t slept, per usual, but rolling around his pillows last night while he indulged fantasies about Y/N had done his curls in something fierce), fixing his royal blue briefs along his hips and dragging the waistband down to show off the dip of his prominent pelvic bones.

Once the immortal is done, he taps back with eager strokes of his thumbs. 

I can’t believe you’ve never worn that for me. That’s a criminal offense. Literally worth capital punishment. 

Oh, really? Capital punishment? And who are you to decide my verdict?

I’m the executioner, obviously. I’m in charge of dispensing the verdict and I promise you, I’ll see to it that you get what you deserve. It’s my civic duty.

Y/N scoffs at his quip, tugging her navy polo shirt over her torso and quickly running a brush through her hair. She puts it up into a neat ponytail, sighing lightly as she stares at her tired reflection. She wishes she could ditch work for the day and entertain more conversation with Harry, but she literally can’t afford to.

Well, you’re gonna have to wait while I go perform my own type of civic duty. Making the world a better place, one grilled panini at a time. 

Harry’s lips jolt. She’s so clever and witty, he doesn’t know how she could possibly be from such a dull, monochrome town. 

I understand. Justice calls. But before you go, can I send you a picture of what I’M wearing today? Could use a few style tips. 

That’s pretty ironic coming from someone whose last name is literally ‘Styles.’

I know, I know. But even fashion icons have their insecurities sometimes. 

Fair point, nobody’s perfect. Lemme see your OOTD, then.

The outfit of the day appears to be no outfit at all, according to Harry’s picture. It’s taken on a mirror, like her own, and it depicts him standing with one hand holding his phone in front of his face while the other seems to be doing jazz hands down his body playfully. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of deep blue briefs (probably because he’d completely ruined the maroon pair he was wearing last night, if his broken moans and heavy panting had been any indication) and they hug his frame flawlessly. The fabric is bunched around his lean thighs, tiger head tattoo peeking out to accompany the rest of the collection, which includes all the inkings running the length of his left arm as well as the butterfly and swallows across his torso. His v-line is evident as ever, dipping below the elastic band teasingly. His chest is broad and his biceps are taut, despite the fact that he’s not even flexing. He looks like a Greek statue and Y/N is positive the higher powers designed Harry with that specific thought in mind.

Y/N doesn’t realize drool is gathering in her mouth until it tickles the inside of her bottom lip. She snaps her jaw closed, clearing her throat sheepishly. Over a minute has passed of her just ogling and she can feel heat layering across her cheeks. She knows Harry probably has the cockiest expression on his face at the moment, obvious in the tone of the next comment he delivers. 

Damn, it’s that bad, huh? Guess I’ll have to change. 

No, it’s perfect. Simple, but effective. Very professional. 

Why, thank you! 

My pleasure.

Here, take this as a token of my appreciation. Hopefully it can help get you through the day. 

This specific photo is taken from an above point of view, as if Y/N were looking down at Harry’s body along with him. His pectorals and stomach muscles appear more defined, tattoos darker and skin more evidently sunkissed. Lower down, there’s the obvious outline of what lies within his boxers, snuggled up against his thick thigh and tempting her to let out a soft whine. Then, resting casually against his abdomen is his free hand, sporting a thumbs-up that gives a purposefully goofy vibe to the risky image. He’s such an idiot. 

The mortal’s answer is just as silly and lighthearted as his gesture. 

Thank you, I’ll keep it locked in my heart forever. 

I wouldn’t want it any other way. 

That’s the first interaction of many that further opens the door to their virtual sex life. Things hardly stay that innocent. 

That night when Y/N gets home from work, they undergo another round of phone sex. It starts off the same: cheeky banter that leads to cheeky pictures that eventually leads to utter filth. 

And that’s how they spend the next few days— taking care of each other’s needs digitally until Friday rolls around. There’s plenty of those encounters, but there’s definitely favorites. 

A session during one of Harry’s self-care baths, when he puts her on speaker and she talks him through tugging one out while the scent of lavender salts— which he’d chosen because they smell like her— leave his heated skin feeling soft and supple. Another instance where he makes her orgasm while she has gotten bored watching a scary movie marathon on her couch, the screams of the horror film mere background noise compared to all the sweet nothings Harry huskily mumbles into her ear, his dominant voice filtering through her headphone and instructing her on how to make herself feel good.

Harry messages her at three A.M. at one point, wide awake as ever, all of his thoughts occupied by the concept of Y/N laying on her tummy between his thighs and sucking him off at a slow pace. He can practically see her small hands wrapped around his girth, stroking up to meet her pretty lips, her tongue lapping at his tip eagerly as she whines around a full mouth. She’s always just so eager. Even at the crack of dawn, she’s awake by some miracle, and happily willing to delve into that fantasy with him. Her soft, timid tone drifts across the shells of his ears, explicitly sketching out how she’d take him all the way down her throat until she gags, and how she’d kiss all over the head of his prick just to smear his precum over her lips to then lick it off, and how she’d rock against his lap fast and hard while he takes her nipples between his teeth. How she wouldn’t stop until he’s dripping down her thighs and groaning into her throat. How she’d let him fuck her as many times as it takes to tire himself out. 

Harry obviously repays her, and it comes in the form of him painting out a scenario where she’s gotten home from a long day at the café. He tells her about how he’d be there waiting for her in nothing but his underwear, sitting back on his elbows in her bed, touching himself over his briefs just at the thought of pleasuring her. About how he’d lay her out and taste every inch of her body with his tongue, and how he’d run his teeth across her inner thighs tenderly while his fingers play with her clit, and how he’d have her ride his face deep and sloppy until she’s shaking and sensitive. How he’d tie her to the bed and toss her legs over his shoulders while he pounds her into the mattress, marking bruises across her neck as she sucks on his fingers and tightens around his cock like “the snug little thing you are.”

They even take their fun out of the confines of their houses and into public settings, just to give it an adrenaline high. Those situations are foreplay; it’s how they prep each other throughout the day for when they’re both finally alone and can truly help one another to the fullest. 

It happens Thursday on two occasions. 

First, to Y/N, who is sitting in the backroom on her lunch break, though she’s barely touched her food. She’s much more interested in what Harry has to say. Much more interested in how he says he wishes he could be there with her right now. That she could sneak him in through the back door of the restaurant and they could lock themselves in that tiny supply room, making sure no one would disturb what he’s about to do to her. That he would drop to his knees and drag her jeans down her legs, pressing damp kisses in the denim’s wake, biting hickies in the areas he knows she loves to receive them. He would mount her knees over his shoulders and bury his face between her thighs, looking up at her through heavy lashes as he licks into her desperately. He would have her grab onto his curls and guide his tongue just the way she likes it, and she’d have to bite into her cheek to keep from getting caught. 

He talks about how he’d take her against the supply shelves, one hand clamped over her mouth while he pants praise into her ear, her body jolting roughly upwards against the surface as she clings to his back. How he’d hold her up with the other arm and slam her down onto his cock, cooing things like, “Gotta keep quiet for me, sweetheart. Can’t make you cum if we get caught.” and “Such a filthy girl, sneaking me in here just to fuck you. Baby just wants to walk around the rest of the day full of me, doesn’t she?” 

That fantasy leaves her in a bothered haze the rest of the work day. It’s bad enough that she almost drops her tray three different times and has to ask multiple customers to repeat their orders. 

Y/N gets back at Harry, though. That revenge is the second occasion. 

The vampire had mentioned that he would be going out with his friends that evening to a bar and she takes full advantage of that. When the picture comes through, Harry nearly spits out his Manhattan drink. 

He’s sitting in a booth surrounded by his entire group and he’d been talking shit with Niall about golf. The vampire doesn’t care for the sport, but Niall loves it, and Harry loves getting on Niall’s nerves, therefore it’s all pretty self-explanatory. Mitch and Adam join in, with Mitch obviously supporting Harry, when he randomly decides to check his notifications. Even in the shrunken little banner, Harry can immediately tell the photo is graphic. Xander asks if he’s alright, telling him he looks freakishly pale and to get his eyes under control because they're in public. Harry blinks the red from his irises, hurriedly excusing himself and clambering up from his seat, jetting across the restaurant towards the restrooms. It’s occupied, much to his luck, so he settles for simply pressing his back against the wall of the corridor, leaning his head against the bricks and taking deep breaths to calm the raging in his stomach. He gingerly opens the message and his knees nearly give out. 

The image is taken from the back, probably using a timer. Y/N is wearing one of her big tees and another pair of cheeky lace panties, but this time around, they’re pastel peach and crotchless. She’s bent over with her ass up and spine arched, knees parted for balance, her shirt bunching downwards due to the angle. Her arms are pulled behind her back and her chest is flushed to the bed, wrists crossed submissively as she gazes at the camera over her shoulder. There’s an unmistakable sparkle in her eyes and he can tell she had sent this now on purpose just to fuck with him, knowing good and well that he was out and occupied.

The shot is more than he can handle and he has to swallow down the urge to stomp out of the bar, get into his car, race to her flat, and make her rethink her decision. Preferably, in the form of harsh spanks and overstimulation. He can see everything— the intentional rip at the crotch of the panties are meant for that sole reason. The closer he looks, he comes to realize that she’s wet, which in turn means she had been touching herself. She’d set this up perfectly, knowing that he’d easily be able to deduce that fact and that it would haunt him for the rest of the night. 

The monster releases a quivering exhale, typing back slowly and carefully, sight bleary. 

You’re going to regret that. 

Pinky promise?

///

When Harry arrives at Y/N’s apartment the next night, as he has for the last three Fridays, he doesn’t saunter up to her door and bang on it angrily. He doesn’t grab her by her hair and drag her into her room, how he’d intended. He doesn’t even have a single cinch in his sculpted brows. 

Instead, he raps softly on the door with one jeweled knuckle and waits calmly. 

The human goes to answer, her stomach twisting in excitement at all the possibilities of what punishment she might face for her antics. A small, sly smile buckles the corners of her lips at the thought, her fingers trembling as they wrap around her cold doorknob. She expects to find a furrow-browed, intense-eyed, red-faced Harry behind the threshold, who would shove past her, nab her by the arm, and throw her onto her bed. She expects him to yank his belt from around his hips while a distinct darkness swallows his emerald irises, his mouth curling into a sinister grin. She expects him to roughly command she get on her hands and knees, his palm finding the back of her head to shove her face-first into the sheets while he rips her panties down her legs and drags the cool leather of his accessory over her backside tauntingly.

What she gets is something— and someone— completely the opposite. 

When her door swings open, Harry is standing standing there, sure. But instead of looming over her with flaring nostrils and cruel intent, he’s decided to lean against the door frame with his arms folded casually. His body is completely empty of tension, his ankles are crossed offhandedly, and a small, bright red paper bag full of sparkly black tissue paper is hanging off his wrist. His expression is a relaxed facade of indifference, lips set into his usual signature smirk, no explosive emotions present whatsoever. 

That startles Y/N. This has to be an act; it feels like the calm before a violent storm and it has her shifting in her socked feet. Did he...Did he forget what she did? 

There’s no way he forgot. It was too brazen a move to dismiss.

Harry steps forward into her home, comfortable enough that he no longer has to wait for an invitation. Y/N moves to the side to let him through, hesitantly closing the entrance behind him, contemplating the man as if he were a ticking bomb. She does a quick sweep of his physique, looking for some other clue as to what he could be plotting, aside from the mysterious gift bag in his hand. He’s wearing a pair of flared denim jeans, a white tee with a royal blue cartoon bee printed in the center along with the words Enjoy health! Eat your honey! surrounding it, his white Vans, and an oversized colorful patch-work cardigan. The outfit is surprisingly domestic compared to his usual taste, but she finds it’s easily one of her favorite fits on him. He just looks so boyish adorable. 

The human comes up with nothing suspicious, glancing back up to lock eyes with her guest. Harry beams at her innocently and she knows for sure he’s planning something, but she can’t place what. 

“I got you this.” The vampire speaks up first, holding out the paper bag towards Y/N with his index finger, bouncing it encouragingly. “Take a peek.” 

The girl accepts the gift gingerly, giving him one more hard look before breaking away to investigate what lies beneath the tissue paper. She pulls out a small cardboard box, her eyes squinting slightly as she reads its print and surveys the label. The image on the surface appears to be of five silicone finger gloves, each about the size of a thumbtack, tiny metal plates embedded into the pads. She’s voicing her curiosity before she’s even finished studying the container. 

“What...What are these?”

Harry rolls his eyes jokingly, tapping the object for emphasis. “Read the fine print, love.” 

Y/N focuses on the region he’d pointed out, reciting aloud. “‘Vibrating silicone finger gloves. For the use of personal pleasure or with partners.’”

Then it all clicks. 

“Oh my God, you got me— what?!” Y/N’s head snaps up in shock, mouth parted and brows creased. “Harry, what?”

The young man laughs airily, gently opening the seal of the box in her hands, which she is now holding as if it were a weapon of mass destruction. It’s such a weird present to give in general, moreso all out of the blue, so she can’t be blamed for her reaction.

He uncaps the packaging, rummaging through its contents and pulling out two of the tiny rubbery gloves. They’re transparent and ribbed, obviously meant to deliver as many sensations as possible, and they’re about two inches in length. He slips them onto his index and middle finger, making scissoring motions for the purpose of symbolism, but mainly just to watch Y/N fidget. “I remember how you said you don’t have sex toys because you’d never really thought about buying any, so I went and picked these up down at my favorite shop. Jessi said they’re good for beginners.”

“Jessi?” Y/N’s voice is tight. She’s not sure how to respond to this; she’s never been in this situation before. No one has ever just given her a sex toy as if a were a candy bar. “Who’s Jessi and why do they need to know about my sex life?”

“She’s the manager.” Harry says matter-of-factly. He doesn’t seem to find anything strange about this encounter. “She helped me pick out my first pocket vag, so I trust her with my soul. Here, look. You just slip them on and—” He makes finger thrusting motions in the air, wiggling his digits playfully. “Big O. Not as good as what I can give you, obviously, but close enough.”

“Harry, you do realize this is a little…odd, right?”

The boy blinks at Y/N blankly. “What? Why? Sex is literally the basis of this whole thing.” He signals back and forth between them with his gloved forefinger. “It’s really not that weird at all, if y’think about it.”

“I just...it’s like…” 

Her argument fizzles to an end the longer she stares at him. He has the most wholesome expression painted across his handsome features, his eyes glossy with excitement. He looks genuinely elated about the present and she can’t find it in herself to question him any further. As unorthodox as this may be, it’s the first true act of kindness anyone has shown Y/N since she had moved to California. It’s the first time anyone has given the girl anything without her having to request it. She comes to the realization that Harry really is the only friend she has at the moment, and she refuses to pick and prod at that, lest he retract from her on the grounds that she’s ungrateful. Yes, this is a little atypical, but so is their whole dynamic. In his own twisted way, this is how Harry shows his friendship. 

The more she ponders on it, she starts to understand that this truly is something she should accept. He went out of his way to get her this gift, which solidifies their acquaintanceship. It’s sweet.

“You know what, never mind. Thank you! I love them.” 

The giddy smile that cracks his face melts her heart. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

Harry then softly grasps her hand with his, tugging her down the entrance hallway, his intentions set on her bedroom. His voice takes on a deeper sultry twang, the corners of his mouth twitching suggestively. “Because on my way here, I was thinking, yeah? And I figured: who better to teach you how to use these than the person who picked them out.”

“Of fucking course.” Y/N huffs in amusement, shaking her head but allowing herself to be guided forward. “I should’ve known you had an ulterior motive.” 

“Heyyyyy!” Harry’s whine is offended, but the coy simper dimpling his cheeks ruins any defense he could possibly try to spin. “This isn’t an ulterior motive, it’s simply a supporting one.”

“Right.” Y/N states flatly, shuffling forward slowly as he backs down her corridor, momentarily glancing over his shoulder to orient himself. “Buying a fuck buddy a sex toy is totally selfless and mutually exclusive of the agreement.”

Harry takes a turn and crosses the threshold into her bedroom, releasing her arm and instead, he opts for wrapping his fist into the loose material of her large Transformers tee, twisting the fabric around his knuckles and giving it a sharp yank. She stumbles into his chest and almost drops the box. 

The vampire gazes down at her with half-lidded eyes, long lashes tempting and plush lips the color of roses. “I never said it was mutually exclusive. I just said it wasn’t meant to be evidently inclusive.” 

He takes the box from her grip, sliding it onto her nightstand so that any obstacles between them are eliminated. He beckons her closer with a flick of his wrist, feeling heat erupt across his chest as her palms slap down against it to steady herself. She’s always so warm, almost like a furnace. It’s a nice contrast to his ever-present coldness.

Harry’s cupped fingers nurse the slope of her jaw, tilting her chin up to level his, Cupid’s bow ghosting over her own teasingly as a grin threatens to betray him. His accent is thick, heavy with condescension. “Now do you want me to fuck you or not?”

Y/N gulps audibly, the sudden jump in her heart rate causing Harry’s cock to give a foreshadowing twitch in his designer jeans. Her eyes soften with a form of weepy desire, head nodding in his grasp. 

Harry’s top teeth catch on his lower lip as he appraises her from over the crest of his defined cheekbones. “I don’t think I heard you, pet. Must be the AC draft.”

The mortal’s eyes fall shut as she composes herself, a shaky sigh faltering past her nostrils. She tips forward onto her toes, connecting her itching mouth to his. Harry allows it, listing his head to the side to grant her more access, his free arm roping across the dip of her spine and pressing her front flushed to his. The kiss is soft and heated, full of drunken tongues and muffled whimpers. It’s tame compared to most of the others they’ve shared, but Harry likes it. It’s sloppy and intimate; only the beginning of what he knows will be a long night. 

Her words sting the ridges of his lips, hot and bated. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Harry speaks into her mouth, tone gentle but packing a punch. “Get my belt off for me, will you? I’m tying you to the bed tonight.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice, a dark chuckle vibrating across his tongue when her fingers immediately begin to fumble with his belt buckle. 

Once Harry has looped the leather tightly around Y/N’s wrists and has knotted them to one of the wooden railings of her headboard, he sits back on his heels to admire his work. Y/N is splayed out across her mattress with her arms suspended above her head, bare thighs clasped in anticipation as her t-shirt gathers around her waist. Her hands are curled into fists, nails digging into her palms as she watches Harry leisurely shrug off his cardigan, keeping eye contact with her the whole way through. His tattoos stand out against the buttery light of the single lamp on the table, tanned arms flexing sinfully. 

He shifts around, laying down onto his stomach and coasting his palms up her quivering legs, kissing over her kneecaps and along the crease of her inner thighs, bunching her shirt further up her body as he goes. As soon as he spots the first garter, he blacks out for a millisecond, vision washing red. 

“Fuck, wait— did you…?” His voice is strained and desperate as he shoves the rest of her clothes up her torso, pulling her shirt over her head and letting it rest at her elbows. He hums appreciatively when he’s met with the full cherry-colored lingerie set from a few days ago, garters and all. “God, you did.”

Y/N’s gaze falls timidly, a sheepish smile brushing over her face. “I thought you’d want to see it in person, since you seemed to like it so much.” 

“Mm...” Harry struggles to swallow, fingers hooking under the straps that clip to the hem of her underwear, pulling the fabric from her skin and letting them snap back into place. He revels in the tiny noise she lets slip, the pads of his digits now toying across the frilly bands encircling her upper legs. After a thoughtful heartbeat, Harry speaks up, wistful but vehement. “I’m going to make you soil your sheets again.” 

Y/N bucks a tad at his promise, wrists stressing against the leather belt, but Harry’s practiced enough bondage in his lifetime to know she won’t be getting out anytime soon. He parts her knees open with his palms, dragging his silicone-covered fingers down her clothed clit and tutting when she lets out a stuttery gasp. 

“Always so sensitive, aren’t you, angel?” The vampire pets at her core patiently, heat pooling at the base of his abdomen as he feels her panties damped with every stroke of his touch. “Christ, you’re already soaking through.”  

“Want more.” The girl’s plead is strangled as she actively forces herself to keep her legs wide open, knowing that if she were to allow them to snap shut, Harry would only pry them apart again. “I’ve been thinking about this all week. Please.”

“All week?” Harry drags tongue across the inside of her thigh, nipping at the flesh tauntingly, the amber specks in his eyes glittering amidst his lashes. He continues to rub through her underwear, drinking up all the little noises streaming from her throat. “Tread lightly, dove. You’re swelling my ego.”

“I just…” Her hips give another jerk when he wriggles two rubber-clad fingers into the crotch of her bottoms, spreading her open just a bit and grinning against her skin at how wet she’s become. “I just need it hard tonight, Harry. Need you to leave me sore.” 

“I always leave you sore.” The monster reasons mockingly, taking one of the garters between his teeth and tugging, releasing so it stings her like before. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.” 

Y/N trembles out an exhale, gathering herself enough to give him what he wants. “I need you to fuck me like you hate me.”

Harry grabs onto either sides of her panties, slowly peeling them down her legs and then scooting closer forward, planting an open-mouthed kiss right onto her bare clit. She mewls in return, her restraints creaking the bed. He continues pressing messy wet pecks to her cunt, feeling her tense up each time his soft lips suckle her fervently. 

“Is that why you sent that picture?” Harry wonders aloud, pausing his motions and raising one eyebrow at her. “Because you wanted me mad?”

The human nods, face wracked with guilt. It’s cute that she feels bad, especially because Harry had, in actuality, enjoyed her little stunt. Seeing her bent over like that, in a position that shows she couldn’t wait to please him— that she couldn’t wait until Friday came around so he could do to her whatever he deemed fit...It was the best form of edging he’s ever experienced. But for the sake of giving her what she wants, he’ll bite the bait. 

Harry rises up onto his knees, parting her thighs further as he fits himself between them, the pads of his gloved digits dancing across the thick of her damp clit. He bends down until his nose smudges over hers, the breath of his low words hot against her parted mouth. 

“Well, it fucking worked.”  

Harry taps his index and middle fingers against his palm in one quick flick and the tiny metal plates situated along the tips purr to life. He sinks knuckle-deep inside of Y/N, cold rings catching on her folds as he curls upwards to get at that special spot that resides along the pit of her tummy. The moan she releases it so raw and broken, it sends a zip of lightning through his veins. 

He fucks her like that for a while, with his strong chest poised against her heaving own as he marks love bites onto the cleavage spilling from her lace bra, his skilled fingers pumping into her at a harsh pace that has her legs shaking on either sides. He thumbs over her clit messily, the silicone molds sending waves of vibrations through her clenching walls as he relentlessly toys with her g-spot, her arms thrashing against his belt. Fragmented sounds of bliss freely stream from Y/N’s mouth without shame, his name intermingling amongst the whimpers as her head throws back against the headboard. Harry grips her throat in one hand, holding her to the sturdy surface as his other bobs between her thighs roughly, the bed groaning as a result of their intense actions. His wrist begins to ache from how hard he’s going, but the tears trickling out from the corners of Y/N’s eyes and the way she’s panting into his mouth are enough to keep him going.

“Look at me.” Harry squeezes her jugular tighter, garnering attention. She forces her eyelids open, inhales hiccuping when he braces his cool forehead to hers, his irises the color of a forest at midnight, pupils blown out of proportion. His teeth dig into her bottom lip just to feel it swell, a growl stirring the gravel in his chest. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Y-Yes.” Y/N boggles her head feverishly, glimpsing down over her sweaty cheeks to see the way his veins are chiseling along the forearm that is flexing between her drenched thighs. “Fuck, it’s so g-good.”

“Yeah? How about we go a little higher, hm?” Harry scrapes the pads of his fingers against that spongy place inside her, pressing the vibrators down and the motion clicks the toy into a higher level of intensity. 

Y/N writhes in his grasp, back arching off the headboard as deeper, more concentrated rumbles lap throughout her body. “Harry— I— that’s— God, just please!”

Harry takes ahold of her jaw as he continues finger-fucking her without remorse, his short breaths warm against her burning lips. “That’s my girl. Taking it hard and loving every second.” 

Y/N’s eyes lull back into her head. She doesn’t know why, but hearing Harry call her his girl satisfies her in a manner so deep, she didn’t know it existed. Just hearing him recognize her as his— as something he claims for himself, almost like an extension of who he is— stirs a foreign form of fulfillment in the back of her mind. 

“I’m—” The girl chokes on her sentence, finding it difficult to concentrate with so much pleasure coursing through her system, as well as with Harry painting hickies across the side of her strained neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

The immortal’s voice is stern and authoritative. “No, you’re not.” 

“I am, I can’t hold—”

“Yes,” Harry’s grip firms, pace sharpening into unapologetic slams, “you can. And you will. If you cum before I let you, you’re not getting anything else from me for the rest of the night. Do I make myself clear?”

Y/N’s cunt tightens around his fingers, warning him that she’s about to peak. “Harry, I’m sorry—but— but I—”

“Do I make myself clear?” 

Y/N has no hope that she can keep it in, but she adores the darkness swirling in Harry’s eyes at the moment and she’ll do anything if it means getting to witness it for a while longer. “Yes.” 

“Good.” She winces when she feels his teeth skim her earlobe, his whisper dripping with arrogant amusement. “I told you I’d make you regret it.” 

And he really does keep his oath. Minutes simulate hours as Harry continues to flirt her just along the seams of relief, pulling her back every time he sees her about to tip. Whenever he feels her begin to spasm around his slick fingers, he gives her a cautionary quirk of his brows accompanied by a testing, throaty, “Don’t you fucking dare.” or a simple, silent shake of his head. By some miracle, she manages to reign herself in every time, but each ruined orgasm makes it harder and harder to stifle the next. She doesn’t know how many times it happens; she stops counting after four. 

After what feels like decades of torture, Harry finally releases his hold around her jugular, allowing her to properly gulp air for the first time in a while. He sits back against his heels, pulling his hand from between her thighs with a sarcastic sympathetic hiss. “Poor thing.” 

He watches as a trail of her juices strings from his digits to her cunt, eventually snapping in the middle as he lifts his hand to study his work. Her release drips down his knuckles and palm, gleaming in the dim lighting. A mildly sadistic glint washes over Harry’s irises and for a split second, they look almost red, but Y/N dismisses it. Her brain is too fogged to trust right now. 

The boy’s sight flickers past his hand to where Y/N lies limply, wrists bruised from the bonds, arms quivering weakly, and legs trembling in overstimulation. He’s never seen her look more beautiful than now. 

He locks his bright eyes to her exhausted own, watching them shatter to pieces when he pushes his drenched fingers past his pillowy blushed lips. His lashes flutter as her taste washes across his tongue, sweet and decadent as always, a soft groan thrumming deep in his throat. God, he can only imagine how delectable her blood must be at the moment, honeyed by the plethora of endorphins he had repeatedly coaxed into her. He can't wait to feel its warmth fill his mouth later tonight.

Harry removes his fingers with a wet pop, licking across the back of his hand with finality and giving her a daring once-over. “Do you still want my cock? Or are you too sensitive for it, darling?”

He sounds so conceited and self-assured, it causes Y/N’s pride to flare. She wants to make him eat his stupid words.  

The mortal licks her chapped lips, wetting her dry throat and clearing it softly, wiping away the sweat on her forehead with her shoulder. “I still want it.” 

An impressed expression decorates Harry’s features. “You think you can take it?”

Y/N’s jaw clenches with dedication, her thighs spreading open a tad more and she wills herself not to flinch. Her chin cocks upwards. “I know I can.” 

Harry’s brows kink challengingly, a borderline evil smirk sewing onto his face. “Let’s see, then.” 

As it turns out, Y/N can take it. However, she knows for a fact she won’t be able to walk right for at least the next week.

Harry lowers his jeans and kicks them off, reaching into his navy briefs and tugging himself out, giving his length a few pumps for good measure as he shifts forward toward her. He flips the girl onto her belly as easily as he’d turn a sheet of paper, tying one arm around her hips and lifting them up as he slides a pillow below. He situates her accordingly onto the cushion, her ass slightly elevated to give him more range of depth. He pats at her backside lightly, telling her to part her knees and she does so obediently, gripping onto the leather strap around her wrists anxiously when she feels the bed shift with his weight. Harry lowers himself over her body, the tee covering his broad chest soaking up the thin sheet of sweat on her back. He moves all of her tangled hair to the side, burying his fingers into her roots and yanking her head back cheekily. He runs his nose across her damp cheekbone and chuckles when she jumps slightly at the feathery sensation. 

“You’re pretty stubborn, aren’t you?” 

Y/N gnaws on her bottom lip as she struggles to swallow, throat taut from the angle he’s put her in. Her voice carries a confident bite, despite her compromisable position. “I like to think I am, yeah.” 

“Well, you know what that makes you, right?” Harry murmurs as he lines himself up with her entrance. 

“Mm-mm. What?” 

The vampire presses a lingering kiss to the tittering pulse in her temple, feeling it thunder below his skin as he forms his next comment slowly with an ominous edge. “It makes you a brat.” 

He feels her heartbeat trip. 

“And you know what I do to brats?” 

Y/N shakes her head as much as his dominant grasp will allow, body tightening in suspense. 

“I fuck them until they break.” 

Y/N learns that he’s telling the truth. The first thrust Harry delivers is swift, hard, and unbelievably deep; it causes her to let out a choked scream that no one else has ever drawn from her before, except for him. It’s like he can tap into certain aspects of her body she was unaware of; parts of her waiting for the right person to come along and reveal them. She feels that stroke rip into her tummy, but the pain of his size is something she’s become accustomed to in the last three weeks. She hardly feels it anymore; it had molded from a sharp throb to a dull ache, due to how often she’s experienced it. 

Harry doesn’t waste any time, quickly picking up a sloppy, adamant pace that has her hips bouncing against the mattress. He twists her hair around his fist, mouth pressed to the side of her head as his hot pants of exertion send a prickling through her scalp. His other forearm keeps him anchored to the bed as he pounds into her with absolutely no hesitation, the sound of skin slapping, cracked whines, and raspy grunts filling the tense atmosphere of her chilly room. 

“Is this what you were hoping would happen when you sent that slutty picture?” Harry grits out, short nails digging into the comforter beneath. “Wanted to get me all riled up just so I’d do your back in?”

Y/N mewls weakly in response, hands clinging to each other within the makeshift cuffs. 

“If you wanted me to fuck you like I hate you, you could have just asked. I’m more than happy to give you whatever you want. You don’t have to tempt me.” The vampire gives a particularly deep slam, laughing breathily when the girl’s back instinctively arches forward, paired with a watery yelp of, “Oh!”

Harry’s tongue grazes across the shell of her ear, teeth catching the skin. “But since you did, I’ll give it to you just— like—that.” His thrusts match to each word, fingers coiling harder into her locks. “You deserve it. Especially when you had the nerve to act like such a spoiled little brat right to my face.” 

Y/N’s not sure what emboldens her to speak, but her snarky remark is already halfway down her numb tongue before she can stop it. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it.”

Harry hums tauntingly, circling his hips in long strides that urge a series of fractured whimpers to scrape out of Y/N’s sore throat. “Say it again. Go ahead, say it. I want to see you try.”

She remains silent, spine shuddering as she bites down on her tongue to avoid making any more noises that might condemn her.  

Harry roughly cranes Y/N’s neck to the side, buttoning their lips together in a filthy kiss that has her cheeks boiling. “That’s what I thought. The only thing that sharp tongue is good for is licking down my cock.” 

She gasps against his mouth shakily, tears of sheer bliss gathering along her waterline. “You’re such a fucking asshole.” 

Harry can tell her comment holds no true malice behind it; she’s too sweet on him— too whipped on what he gives her— to ever mean it. She’d only said it to provoke him into a power dynamic struggle. But the thing is, Harry’s dealt with feeling powerless before, so he had spent years teaching himself how to win. How to always win. 

“Am I, now?” His next line dismantles her entire plan. “Would an asshole let you cum?”

And just like that, her whole demeanor crumbles. “I take it back. I’m s-sorry.”

Harry releases her hair and nips at her ear mockingly, beginning to withdraw himself. “Oh, I think it’s a bit too late for that, minx.”

“No, no! Harry, please. I’m sorry. Genuinely. I promise I won’t say it again. Just…” She tugs helplessly at the belt restraints, trying to twist around to look at him directly. Her voice is wringed out. “Just please.”

The boy pushes a few stringy curls out of his eyes, pressing his tongue into his cheek coyly as he glances down, suggestively smoothing one hand over her ass. He gives it a firm squeeze, lifting his palm teasingly and feeling her tense in anticipation. “Do you want it?”

Y/N glimpses at his bejeweled hand with hunger, then back at his eyes. “Yes.”

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want it.”

“Sorry, I seem to have forgotten what ‘it’ was, exactly. Jog my memory, will you? What is it you want?”

Her irises harden in spite at his shit-eating comment. He’s well aware of how shy she can be when it comes to admitting she wants a spanking, and he’s playing that to his advantage. He’s swimming in the way she squirms. 

“I...I want you to spank me.”

He tsks, shaking his head as he twists his HS rings around to face inwards. “You forgot something.” 

Y/N’s fingers tighten into begrudging fists. “I want you to spank me, please.”

“There’s a good girl.” His low, accented purr sends electricity through her nerves. “You’re so cute when you beg.”

Harry’s hand comes down swiftly, digits fanned out so that all of his rings print across her backside. It’s not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to leave a satisfying sting. He loves the way she jolts forward with a hushed curse of surprise, and he adores seeing the shape of his initials marked across her clammy skin. It’s poetic, almost.

“So pretty.” His mumble is wistful as he massages deeply over the region he had just bruised, but it holds unyielding authority. “Whose is it, doll?”

“Yours.” 

“And don’t you fucking forget it.” The creature lifts one palm to do it again, pausing once more just to rev her further. He reaches forward with the other, shoving her face-first into the mattress to get her back to straighten out. “Look forward and don’t make a single sound.”

Y/N obeys, but manages to sneak a peek at his reflection through the waxy wooden surface of her aged bedframe. He looks so good perched behind her with bare heaving shoulders, looking down at her exposed figure over the crests of his sharp cheekbones, brows furrowed into a starved expression that gives away he’s enjoying this probably more than she is. Her voice comes out small and weak. “Yes, sir.”

Harry’s entire face tightens at the word and she feels him throb against her backside. 

“Now beg me to let you cum.”

///

The next morning when Y/N’s eyes flutter open to the grey light streaking in through her curtains, the first thing she senses is a pair of eyes staring at the side of her face. 

She turns her stiff body over toward where the sensation stems and sure enough, she’s met with a pair of sea glass irises filled to the brim with humor. Harry’s laying on his side with his hands tucked below one of her pillows, tousled ringlets sticking up in wild tuffs (thanks to the activities they’d engaged yesterday), he’s completely bare since he likes sleeping nude (though he’d had the decency to cover himself with sheets from the waist down), and his voice is slower and raspier than usual (a result of being dormant for the last eight or so hours). 

“You drool in your sleep.” 

Y/N tucks her hands against Harry’s cold pectorals, snuggling deeper into his chest and pinching at one of his nipples in playful revenge. “No, I don’t.” 

“Yes,” he reaches up and shoos her hand away, proceeding to wipe at the side of her mouth, where dried spit had accumulated. He makes a theatrical gagging face, cleaning his thumb off across the collar of her t-shirt. “You do.”

Y/N sighs in exasperation, making a bold leap to a different topic to avoid talking about her embarrassing sleep habits. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you staring at people while they sleep is weird? Like, serial killer weird?” 

Harry tucks a few matted strands of hair behind the human’s ear, thumbing over her cheekbone tenderly. He hardly ever indulges in such actions, simply because they’re typically reserved for actual couples, which he and Y/N are definitely not. But last night— after he had finally finished being a prick and allowed her cum along with him, and after she had fallen into the bed with exhaustion taking her under, and after he’d had his greedy fill of her blood for the week— he’d gotten bored of playing on his phone. He’d burned through three cold case documentaries on Netflix and played enough Mario Kart to memorize the race charts; it had grown old quickly, and he eventually just locked the device and placed it on her nightstand. He spent the next hour staring at her hideous ceiling, and the one after that fantasizing about taking down her tapestry and burning it in the oven. And finally, after hours of mindless daydreams and letting his eyes chase the city lights dancing across the walls of her room, he had settled onto his side and watched her sleep. 

Harry did it simply because he had nothing else to distract him. He figured it would eventually bore him enough that maybe— just maybe, if he was lucky— he would fall asleep alongside her. But he didn’t, so he just ended up gazing at her slumbering face until dawn. He had been surprised by how oddly beautiful Y/N looked sleeping— how relaxed and tranquil, with her features soft and skin seemingly made of flawless porcelain. That intrigue had bled into the moment they share now, resulting in his touch drifting down the curve of her jaw and across the faint dimple on her chin. He follows the slope of her neck and admires the smoothness of her flesh with the ridges of his fingertips, hearing her breathing stutter ever so slightly. His heightened senses make it feel as if he’s running his digits over velvet and the only concept he can compare it to is touching forbidden artwork at an exhibit. It’s exciting, but he knows that if he keeps going, he could end up getting himself into a crock of shit. 

When the pads of his fingers land on two prominent purple bruises he’d forgotten existed, he’s broken from his soft stupor. He retracts his touch as if she were made of iron, forcing himself to ignore the pout that automatically plumps her delicate lips. 

He clears his throat awkwardly, a tight chuckle stringing his vocal chords. “Staring at someone in their sleep seemed to work just fine for Edward Cullen, though.” 

Y/N snorts sharply, rolling her eyes up towards her headboard. When she sees his belt is still hanging off of it from the night prior, she hurriedly glances back down, pretending not to have seen it. 

“It’s funny you say that because as I recall, he literally admitted to being a murderer. I believe his exact words were,” she exaggerates her voice into an angsty cry, grasping at her chest dramatically, “‘This is the skin of a killer, Bella!’”

Harry bursts into boyish giggles, falling fully onto his back and swiping his palm up his face, fingers remaining perched over his closed eyes as he laughs. He sighs airily, shaking his head as an afterthought. “What a moron.” 

“Truly. His dad was hotter.” 

“Way hotter.” Harry agrees passionately, burying his hand into his messy curls, attempting to comb out some of the tangles. “And he was a doctor. What a man.” 

“Bella really fucked that one up. She had a midlife crisis over choosing between a sad vampire who looked like he had chronic constipation, and a yappy dog with a shirt phobia. All when Carlisle was right there. Brain damage, honestly.” 

“A moment of prayer for the mentally incapacitated. Couldn't be me!”

“Couldn’t be me, either.”   

“Fuck, yeah.” Harry throws his hand up, inviting Y/N to give him a high five. “To good taste.”

She gladly delivers. “Exquisite taste.”

An instance of comfortable silence suspends between the pair of lovers, filled with the soft thrum of the air vent and the distant chirping of birds outside Y/N’s windowpane. She traces her index nail over the wings of the swallow tattoos along Harry’s collarbones, seeming to be deep in thought. She then speaks up once again.

“Emmett was pretty hot, as well.” 

“You know what? I’m happy you mentioned that ‘cause— full disclosure here— I’d ride him like a fucking bull.” 

Now it’s Y/N’s turn to explode in a fit of giggles, nose scrunching and eyes crinkling shut as she loses herself at Harry’s graphic confession.��

“Why are you laughing?!” The fact that he sounds genuinely appalled only spurs her sounds of glee. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t take that chance if you got it. Like, okay, he’s an airhead, yeah? I’m aware. But fuck’s sake, look at his body. I’d happily let him beat me at arm wrestling if it means I get that celebratory dick afterwards.”

The mortal manages to calm down a handful of heartbeats later and Harry feels strangely proud of how he’d made her pulse spike. 

“You’re valid for that, don’t worry. I couldn’t have said it—” A single giggle interupts her sentence, but she reigns it in before it can spiral. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. Literally. There’s no way to express it better than exactly how you stated it.” 

Harry smirks softly up at the ceiling, folding his free arm behind his head as the other wraps securely down Y/N’s back, absentmindedly rubbing in gentle soothing circles. “My mind. It’s amazing, innit?”

“It’s definitely something.” 

Another span of cozy quietness fills the atmosphere of the room, longer than the last. Harry doesn’t mind. He finds it appeasing, and he continues to delight himself with running his touch up and down Y/N’s spine. He’s not sure how much time passes, but he’s aware that it’s probably a bit. His theory is supported by how he witnesses the beam of watery light that filters over the duvet gradually fade from silver to a sunflower yellow, indicating full daybreak. 

Even then, he doesn’t say a word, too caught up in this innocent bubble of domestic bliss to pop it so suddenly. He just lays there and listens. Listens to the birds harmonizing with each other across the branches of the tree outside. To the steady breaths that fill Y/N’s lungs with cool air, faltering past her nostrils in the same manner and fogging the metal of his cross necklace. To the faint sound of footsteps trotting down the staircase outside her apartment, and to the vague spritz of the sprinkler system going off at the front of the complex. To the distant honking of car horns in traffic, and to a random conversation between two friends as they walk past the pavement just under Y/N’s balcony. He hasn’t felt this at ease in eons. 

Harry just allows himself to grow in tune with the world around him— a world he’d been convinced was against him for the longest time. A world he was convinced stole his happiness and replaced it with the shackles of a blood-driven afterlife, for no other reason than because he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and met the wrong person. But now, he feels like he’s in the right place, at the right time, spending it with the right person— or at least a half-decent person— and he doesn’t want to let it slip between his fingers so soon. He wants to bask in it, even if he knows it’ll pass. 

And eventually, it does pass, and Y/N is the one who brings it to an end. 

The girl slowly peels away from Harry’s side, his lips dipping downwards slightly at the loss of the warmth she radiates. He thinks she’s about to get up to probably go use the bathroom or to make breakfast, but instead, she just bends her upper body over the edge of her bed to retrieve something from the floor. She comes back up with the box he’d brought her the evening before (which had ended up on the ground as a result of her bed rocking violently), setting it in the small space between their laps. She then returns to her place cuddled into his torso, looking up at him with an expression that Harry can only interpret as expecting. 

The vampire glances down at the container and then back up to Y/N’s face, raising his eyebrows curiously, voice tinged with comedy. “What did I say about bringing sex toys to the dinner table?”

Y/N stares up at him flatly for a second, fighting off a smile. “I just wanted to thank you again. It’s nice of you to bring me a present, even as strange as this one.” 

Harry sucks at his teeth, waving a hand dismissively, blinking down at her with slyness sparkling around his pupils. “What are friends for, if not for buying you vibrating finger gloves and then fucking you with them until you cry?”

Despite having been acquainted with Harry’s crude humor for three weeks now, it still manages to make Y/N’s cheeks sizzle. It could also be the fact that this is the first time Harry has openly accepted Y/N as a friend. It’s the first time he’s ever mentioned her name and that word in the same sentence, meaning that she can now shake a weight off her shoulders— a weight that had insisted he was only using her for sex, that he would eventually grow bored of her, and that he would throw her away once he was done. It’s good to know that’s not the case, and that the friendship aspect of their agreement is true to its name. 

“Right.” Y/N’s smile is full of so much genuine warmth, Harry feels like she could outshine the sun. “What are friends for, if not that. Thanks, Harry.” 

He wonders what she’s thinking, and he finds himself wishing that he had the one valid trait that idiot Edward Cullen possesses: mind-reading. But he doesn’t have it, so he simply returns her gesture and skates the conversation how he best deems fit. “You don’t have to call me ‘Harry’ all the time, you know?” 

Y/N’s brows cinch in entertained confusion. “What would I call you, then? Sherlock?” 

Harry scoffs lightly at the inside joke, shrugging one shoulder casually. “I mean, you could, if you want to. It might take some getting used to, but I think I can shoulder a full-time second identity. Just for you.” 

“How chivalrous.”

“You ain’t ever met a man like me, sweetheart.” He boasts in an over-the-top American southern accent, prying another round of laughter from Y/N, similar to the one before. “But you could also just call me ‘H.’ It’s what most of my other friends use.” 

“H.” Y/N repeats, getting a taste for the new nickname. It’s simple, unlike him, but it somehow fits. She then recalls something from a show she’d watched when she was younger and she can’t help but bring it up. “So, like, just your first initial? Like in Gossip Girl?”

Harry’s face immediately drops at the comparison she makes to the cringey teenage soap opera. “You know what, I take it back. You’re not allowed to use it. Illegal. Banned. By an official court. Gavel and all.”

“I’m just making a point!”

“Yeah, a shitty one.” 

“Oh, whatever. You’re just mad I debunked your little hipster alter ego. ‘That’s a secret I’ll never tell. Xoxo, H.’”

“Restraining order.” Harry pinches at one of her love handles, an evil grin dimpling his cheeks when she squeals. “Actually, nevermind. We’re going straight to the electric chair. Immediately.” 

“You don’t get to decide my punishment, remember?” Y/N slaps at his wrists, trying to ward off his attacks but failing miserably. “You’re just the—stop!— just the executioner.” 

“That’s right. I get to strap you to the chair.” Harry finally lets up on the tickling, his lighthearted grin taking on a slightly seductive hue as he momentarily glimpses upwards towards where his belt is hanging. “Though you’d probably like that, wouldn’t you?” 

“Fuck off.” Y/N smothers her palm against his face, breaking eye contact as she feels her ears bristle with heat.  

“Mm, exactly.” Harry gnashes at her hand playfully, but she manages to yank it away before he gets a bite in. “You can’t even admit you like being called a whore.” 

“Hey!”

“What?” The vampire gives her a cocky look, wagging his head knowingly and then mimicking her voice in a higher pitch. “‘I’m just making a point!’”

“You’re a dick, you really are.” 

“And yet you still ride mine, so who’s the one with the real issues here? Specifically, daddy issues.”

“I’m done with this conversation.” Y/N huffs, returning her attention to the box beside her thigh, muffling the twitching across her lips. 

She takes the cardboard into her hands, tracing over the small flap used to pry the top open. Harry watches her with interest, pondering as to what could possibly be scurrying around her skull that she seems so caught up with the context of the gift. He’d gotten it because he knew they would both benefit from it. It’s as simple as that. 

“You know,” she starts, but her gaze remains glued to the box, “I feel kinda bad ‘cause, like...You got me this gift, I have nothing to give you in return.” 

Harry’s face contorts into a silly frown for a moment, tone humorous. “It’s fine, Y/N. You don’t have to give me anything back. I got it ‘cause I knew we’d enjoy using it together, and because this way, you have something to play with when I’m not around. And you can send me videos of said instances. It’s truly a win-win. A double-ended gift.” 

“I suppose.” She mumbles softly, continuing to pick at the lip of cardboard sticking out. “But I feel like it’s only fair that you get to use it, too, don’t you think?”

And then the reason she’s insistent about this dawns on Harry. The way she’s avoiding looking at him directly, how her heart rate is slowly ebbing upwards, how she is gradually scooting closer to his body, how he can feel her thighs are clasped tightly below the comforter. How the scent of honey and lavender has intensified. How she keeps glancing towards where the sheets are crumpled messily around his hips in a haphazard attempt to remain civil. 

When the monster speaks, it carries all the arrogance brought forward by his discovery. “If you wanna give me a handjob with the toy on, just say so.” 

The human’s head snaps upwards, her expression one of utter alarm at his lewd comment, but he can see right through her act. It’s obvious that was her intention all along— the desire in her eyes is poorly masked. She looks so adorable, pretending not to know what he’s referring to, her palms gripping the box slightly tighter than before. 

Harry twirls a strand of her hair around his finger nonchalantly, giving it a jesting tug. “I just find it funny how much of a horny menace you can be.”

“What—?”

“And it’s not even ten A.M. yet.”

“What do you—?” 

“Y/N,” Harry sighs tiredly, giving her an omniscient look, “I’ve slept with you enough times to know when you want something. It’s written all over your body language and you’re pretty shit at hiding it in your eyes. Just admit you want to and I’ll let you.” 

The faux shock slowly melts off her face, replaced by sheepish humiliation at being so easily sussed out. She chews on her bottom lip pensively, struggling to sew together the appropriate words to communicate the very inappropriate activity she wants to engage in. Harry has to withhold from leaning down and taking a bite from her tempting mouth.  

She inhales a deep breath through her nose, puffing it out slowly and tapping her fingers across the box nervously. Her voice pipes up so softly, it’s almost inaudible. “I want to give you a handjob with the toy.”

Harry gently cards his fingers into the mussed roots along the back of her head, using that hold to guide her sight upwards until it meets his. He leans down, smearing his lips over her own, feeling static pass through the ridges of their skin. “That’s all you had to say, darling. Go ahead, then. Make me cum.” 

Y/N swallows thickly, lashes fluttering bashfully as she pastes her mouth to his in a soft kiss. It’s a simple action with just their lips and nothing else. No tongue, no teeth, no sucking, nothing sloppy or desperate— not yet, anyways. He can tell she does it as a way to ease herself into this. She wants to, that much is arousingly obvious, but for some crazy reason unbeknownst to him, she’s still shy about it. That’s what happens when you come from a conservative raising: you get intimacy issues. He of all people— with his Victorian era background— would know. 

The hand Harry has cupping the nape of her neck shifts over a smidge, ending up splayed across the side of her face. His palm rests on her cheekbone and his fingers in her locks, his wrist cradling the back of her skull as he patiently deepens the kiss. His chest begins to heave slightly, a familiar sensation already frothing at the trench of his stomach. Harry can feel Y/N’s clumsy movements as she unboxes the vibrators, digging through the packaging and trying to slip them on blindly, not wanting to break away from his embrace. The way he’s flirting his tongue along the inside of her top lip is just too consuming to leave. 

After a few seconds of grappling and a string of annoyed curse words, Harry giggles lightly into her mouth, nudging the tip of his nose across the bridge of hers. The jade tint in his irises is waltzing with amusement, all at her expense. “Sometime today, love.” 

“I know, I’m sorry, I just— I can’t— they won’t—” The mortal releases an irritated growl into their kiss, reluctantly splitting away when it becomes clear she won’t be able to get the rubber gloves on without giving the task her full attention. “God, I’m such a...Sorry.” 

Harry rolls his eyes in mirth, pecking sweetly along the angry creases present over her forehead and between her brows. He thumbs over her cheek affectionately to soothe her nerves, his other hand scratching distractedly at the back of his neck. He filters curls through his fingers as he waits, bicep jolting in the process. “It’s fine, I’m just teasing. I’m not going anywhere, babe.”

“Thanks. Just give me—” The girl pauses her actions for a second, jutting her chin back up towards him and locking the vampire into another quick kiss, solely for the purpose of keeping him interested while she figures herself out. She breaks away again, returning to her mission. “Just give me a minute.” 

Now that she can see, Y/N successfully wriggles all five of her fingers into their designated molds. She prods at them gingerly, copying Harry’s actions from the night prior, using that experience as a manual. The mini-vibrators purr to life, a buzzing sensation trickling down her fingers. She glances back up at an awaiting Harry, who gives her such an easy, good-natured smile, she instantly reaches up and glues their mouths together again. 

“You’re so eager.” The boy grins into the kiss, jumping a bit when he feels her tittering fingers duck beneath the covers around his lower torso. “It’s hot.” 

“I just want to make you feel good.” Y/N mumbles, one palm braced to his strong shoulder as the other rides down his bare abdomen. She can feel his grip on her hair tightening the closer she gets to his cock. “That’s all.” 

“Guess I’m just the luckiest— shit.” Harry’s quip is interrupted when Y/N wraps her digits around his length, giving it one slow, testing pump. His jaw drops open and he begins panting into her mouth, the corners of his lips ticking upwards into a smirk as an intense pleasure swells between his thick thighs. “Jesus fucking Christ, that feels— fuck, that’s incredible, oh my God.”

“Yeah?” The human asks timidly, gazing up at him dreamily from below her lashes as his eyes lull back into his head. “Not too much?” 

Harry loves how attentive she is— how she’s checking to make sure he’s alright before continuing. If he had a heart, it would surely be glowing right now. 

Harry gulps down the lump in his throat, voice more strained and needy than she’s ever heard it. “No, I’m good, I’m good. Keep going.” 

Y/N gradually sinks her palm back down to his base, feeling his cock twitch desperately as the vibrators work their magic. She slowly slinks back up to his tip, thumbing over it carefully, pressing the toy on her thumb pad right over his slit. The garbled moan that emits from Harry is a sound her ears will never forget. It’s a sound she wishes she could record and listen to on a loop. 

“Fucking hell, don’t— please, just— oh—” Harry stutters through a plead, voice bleeding, naked chest now heaving wildly against her own. His hips buck forward into her hand, but she maintains a steady grip, keeping the vibrator pressed to the center of his cock’s head. 

“Don’t what?” She whispers into his mouth, suckling at his Cupid’s bow and reveling in the little broken noises he pours onto her tongue. 

Harry’s breaths are shallow and pained, the grip on her hair stronger than she thought possible as the fingers of his opposite hand yank at his own feverishly. He’s barely able to choke out his next sentence. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” Y/N begins to fish for a solid rhythm, her strokes setting into medium pace and gauging the receiver's reaction. “How’s that?” 

Bright colors web across Harry’s eyelids and he feels like his soul is being torn from his body. “Y-Yeah, that’s perfect, baby. It’s so good— you’re so good.” 

“I am?” Y/N swipes her thumb over his tip again, and when he whimpers brokenly against her lips, she does it again. It urges the same exact reaction, but more shattered. So she does it again. And again, and again, and again. And each time it happens, his hips jerk more violently, chasing her intoxicating touch. She can feel Harry’s precum drip down his length and leak between the cracks of her fingers. 

“You are, you’re just so fucking good to me.” Harry’s spewing words at this point, brain half conscious, half floating in bliss. Whatever dam of common sense holds his mind together crumbles, all of his thoughts rushing out in the form of jumbled phrases and cracked whines. “You get me going like nothing else, pet. You get me going so easily, it’s embarrassing. You make me cum so hard, it feels like I’m touching h-heaven. And your mouth— God, y-your mouth. It’s the best I’ve ever had. It’s so soft and warm, and your lips are so pretty and silky. I could kiss you for hours. And your tongue— you know how to use it so well. You lick me once and I’m already on edge. And every time you get down on your knees, I think I’m gonna pass out.”

Y/N sighs shakily at Harry’s string of confessions, staring up at him with wide eyes as his own stay shut loosely, long lashes perched on his rosy cheekbones, handsome features slack with euphoria. She doesn’t halt her motions, continuing to pump him excitedly. The girl passes her thumb over his tip every time she gets to the top, and gives a hard squeeze every time she thunks down against his base, twisting her wrist as she glides back and forth between the two points of reference. That combination seems to work well, evident in the steady stream of vulgarities falling from Harry’s swollen lips as he thrusts upwards to match her pace. His groans splash across her tongue, traveling down her throat and burning into her stomach. She wants him to cum probably more than he does.

Y/N glimpses down, watching her sheets tent as she works Harry over, the outline of her knuckles pressing into the turquoise fabric. It’s such an erotic scene and she knows it’ll be branded across the front of her brain for years to come. She cranes her neck back up to look at the vampire, her breath catching in her lungs. He looks so pretty with his dark pink lips parted in pleasure, his damp ringlets matting along his sweaty hairline, his structured jaw ticking, and his usually sharp traits softened by ecstasy. She’ll do anything to make that image last.  

“Tell me more.” Y/N murmurs, swimming in the praise he is so willing to dish out. 

His eyes flicker for a heartbeat and in that instance, they look oddly darker than normal. Almost crimson, but she knows it’s due to the shadow of his lashes. The words that spill from his mouth next make her forget all about that occurrence, his voice melodic and dark, sticky against her wet lips. 

“Your hands are one of my favorite things about you, I think. They’re smaller than mine and I love how your fingers don’t touch when you wrap them around my cock. I love how they leave my back raw with scratches, and I love how they look tied to the bedpost. I love it when they press flat against my chest when you ride me, and how you lean back on them when I’m on my knees with my head between your thighs. I love how they yank at my hair when you’re about to cum, and how they grip my upper arms when we make-out. I love how your nails dig into my thighs when you're going down on me, and how they look fisting at the sheets when I’m taking you from behind. And I love how they feel tugging me off, like you’re doing now. I just love how perfect they are— how perfect you are.” 

Y/N is left speechless, Harry’s monologue ringing in her heated ears as he gazes at her intensely amidst heavy, barely-cracked eyelashes. His broad chest gasps for air and he takes it upon himself— despite his wrecked appearance— to smush their mouths deeper together, pooling moans across the roof of her own.  

“I’m—” His breathing throttles, voice coming out softer than she’s heard it in the last three weeks. “I’m gonna cum.”

Y/N nods her head numbly, strokes becoming lazy and fast, eager for him to finish. “I want you to. I want you to cum for me so bad. Please?” 

Harry’s hips writhe in a tell-tale sign that he’s about to tip. His whimper tastes sweet on her tongue, the meaning behind it pure syrup to her ego. “You’re the only one who makes me feel this good.”

The mortal whines gently in return, eyes falling shut as she feels him grow heavier in her palm. “You’re the only one I want to make feel this good.” 

The knot of white hot pleasure in his belly begins to unravel, his entire spine shuddering as a result, all strain beginning to wash out of his system in spurts if blissful electricity. He can feel his orgasm racing up his prick, pulling his composure along with it. He gives one last jerk against Y/N’s cupped fingers, feeling her press her vibrating thumb over his slit one more time for good measure. When the first milky ribbon spurts out, that’s when he feels it. 

Harry’s eyelids fly open in alarm as black veins protrude along the whites of his eyes, all his muscles contracting at once, defense mode activated. Y/N’s lips are on his neck. 

His first instinct is to do what he always does and guide her away from that sensitive, highly forbidden area. His fist tightens in her hair and he’s about to yank her back up to his mouth when suddenly, the icy tension present in his veins disappears. It’s replaced by a soothing warmth, which travels through every crevice in his body and kindles his climax, his impulsive hatred for being touched in that specific region funneling away completely. He can’t remember a time where this has happened before. 

Harry’s grip loosens hesitantly as he treads into this unexplored territory, allowing her to continue suckling along his throat. The sensation would usually garner a reaction similar to that of a molten metal brand being placed on his skin, but now— for some startling reason— he doesn’t feel any contempt. He just feels relaxed and cradled in the best way imaginable. The impact is pleasant this time around, and he finds himself wanting more of it. So, he lets her give him more. He lets this strange girl kiss and gasp and lick against his jugular while she finishes getting him off, his own desperate sounds of need bouncing around the brick walls of her bedroom. He lets her coax wave after wave of cum out of him, feeling it splatter against her bedspread and coat over her hand. He whines and grunts into the hair along the crown of her head, tears blearing his eyes as her scent of sugar and flowers clouds his mind. And when his release finally sputters to an end, he lets out an elongated groan so deep, it makes his chest ache.

“Fuck. You’re...You’re an absolute angel.”

Y/N draws her hand out from beneath the bed sheets, turning off the vibrating finger pads by pressing them against her palm. She looks down at the milky substance covering the toys and before Harry can make even a sound of encouragement, she’s already licking it off each individual piece. The girl looks up at the vampire as she cleans every trace of him off her fingers, swallowing it all down with a doe-like tint across her hazy gaze and murmuring a soft, “You taste good.” over a full mouth. Harry just watches silently, heavy breathing slowly starting to even out. God, she really is such a fucking godsend.

The next couple of minutes list by in a blur, all of his focus taken up by the feeling of unsettlement pricking at the back of his brain. Why had he let her touch him there? Why had he let her touch him in a place no one has since before his death?

Y/N puts the toys back in their box, putting them off to the side to thoroughly clean later. She reaches down, bunching up her bedspread in her hand and wiping Harry’s pelvis, thighs, and tummy down until he’s decently clean, as well as whatever is left on her hand. She then snuggles up to his side once again, laying her head into the crook between his arm and pectoral muscles, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully along with him. The irritating red tint across Harry’s chest, stomach, and neck gradually fades away, and he barely flinches when he feels her sponge her lips against his Adam’s Apple. She lulls the tip of her middle finger up along the vein of his cock one more time for finality, smiling slyly when he hisses in sensitivity.

The immortal tilts his head down to appraise her, sniffling lightly and allowing a weak, watery smile across his raw lips. His tone is feathery and detached. “That was…Christ.”

Y/N giggles softly, nodding along to his unspoken opinion. “It was fun. Really fun. We should do it again sometime.” 

Harry splutters into a drunken laugh, mind still floating around the room. “I don’t think I could survive that again.”

Y/N grins up at him cheekily. “Pussy.” 

Her friend breaks into an expression of utter offense, cheeks still slightly rosy. He shoves her head roughly as vengeance. “Hey! Piss off. Don’t blame it on me, blame it on the male anatomy.” 

The girl shakes her head up at him, eyebrows shrugging mockingly. “Excuses, excuses.” 

“Whatever.” 

A moment passes, and then Y/N speaks up again, her index finger poking playfully into the center of his bare chest, right over the butterfly tattoo. “Also, you’re washing my sheets. Your mess, you clean it up.”

Harry grins against her forehead, scratching lightly at the back of her scalp. “Fair enough…Wait, is that why you wanted to do this? ‘Cause you knew I’d soil your sheets and you could force me to do your laundry?”

That hadn’t been her motive at all, and Harry knows that, but she plays along anyways for the hell of the joke. “Perhaps.” 

“Wow. I feel used.” 

“Too bad. Go do it. Now. Before it stains.”

Harry stares at her like she’s sprouted a second head. “I literally can’t walk right now! I can’t feel anything below my waist.”

Y/N lifts the comforter off her body, symbolically showing off the bruises his fingertips and rings had left the night before. “Well, neither can I!” 

Harry reaches down and touches the marks, chuckling to himself. “How unfortunate. Who’s gonna make breakfast, then, if neither of us can even stand?”

“We could UberEats some iHop.” 

“Who’s gonna get the door?”

“Well, I can’t solve everything on my own, now can I?!” Y/N slaps his hand away from her body. “Contribute! You’re the lead detective, after all.” 

“I am, aren’t I?” Harry cocks his head to the side in recollection, remembering his role in their imaginary dynamic duo scenario. “And because I’m the lead, I say…” He ropes his lean arms around the human and buries his face into her warm neck, pulling her close and intertwining their legs together, trapping her to the mattress along with him. “I say we just bum around for a bit longer. Just until one of us can actually muster up the strength to leave the bed.” 

Y/N makes an exasperated noise in the back of her throat, but makes no apparent attempt to leave his embrace. “Fine.” 

“Mystery solved, then! Elementary, my dear Watson.”

“You’re so dumb.” 

The pair stay cuddled for a bit, with Y/N’s hands loosely gripping Harry’s forearms, tracing across his mermaid tattoo absently. She wanders in her thoughts for a period of time, lost in the sensation of Harry’s warm breath fanning down her neck, his hot lips pressing small kisses behind her ear every once in a while. She likes their morning after routine; it’s innocent and fun and sharing moments like this makes it easy to forget her troubles. She wants more of this, and she finds herself trying to come up with ways to convince Harry to spend the night more often. This is only the fourth time he’s stayed until morning and she wants that number to grow. 

An idea dawns on her and she’s voicing it before her inhibitions can kill it off.

“Do you...Do you maybe wanna stay over the rest of the weekend?”

Harry draws his face from the alcove of her soft neck, eyebrows poised in curiosity. “The rest of the weekend?”

“Yeah!” Y/N shifts her gaze up to look at him, hope swirling around her pupils. “Like, spend the rest of today and tomorrow over, and then leave tomorrow night ‘cause I have work on Monday. Does that, like...Does that make sense?” 

“Yeah.” Harry says slowly, mulling over her offer, thinking back to his schedule. He doesn’t think he has any commitments this weekend that would require him being home— none he can’t cancel easily, anyways. He’d told Mitch he’d go see him play again at the pub later today, but it’s the same set as last time, so he doesn’t think his best friend would mind if he missed it just this once. Niall was planning a barbecue at his place on Sunday, but the Irish bloke does one almost every other week so it’s nothing Harry can’t make up. Plus, what type of idiot would pass up two day’s worth of amazing sex? The more, the merrier.

Y/N watches the vampire’s expression carefully, trying to interpret whether her request was out of their boundaries. She doesn’t want to make him feel like she’s trying to tie him down or suffocate him, she just wants to spend a bit more time in his presence, rather than through a phone screen. Her tone comes out dismissive, with just the tiniest hint of panic. “It’s okay if you can’t, though. Like, if you have other plans and stuff, I totally get it. Or if you just don’t want to, that’s fine, too! I just thought it’d be a fun little thing we can do since we already talk so much on the phone and everything, so I guess I just kinda figured you wouldn’t mind—”

“I get it, Y/N.” Harry interrupts Y/N’s unhinged word vomit, voice amused and nonchalant. “I think I’d like that, yeah.”

Y/N blinks in giddy surprise. “Really?” 

“Well, don’t sound so shocked.” Harry laughs lightly, fingers toying with the pearls laying across his clavicle. “The sex is pretty fucking good and I’m more than happy to have it at my disposal.” 

“Right.” Y/N gives him a deadpan look, shaking her head at his bluntness, reaching forward to fiddle with the chain of his cross necklace for the sake of having something to distract her from smiling like a fool. “Great, then. I have some old boxers that I know will probably fit you and an unopened pack of toothbrushes under the sink, so I think you’re set.” 

Harry’s lips purse at the mention of the men’s underwear, brows creasing a tad. “You just casually have men’s boxers laying around?” 

“They were my ex’s and I kept them out of spite. But don’t tell anyone, I don’t wanna get locked up for robbery.” 

The tightness in his chest— which he hadn’t even realized had formed— melts away. “My lips are sealed.”

“Good, or else I’d have to kill you.” The girl states darkly, a theatrical seriousness to her appearance. 

“Oh no.” Harry wails sarcastically, knotting a fist into her oversized tee and pulling her closer, connecting their lips and grinning into the kiss. “I’m shaking in fear.” 

Y/N gives in without much of a fight, hands still clinging to his forearms, a smile of her own creeping across her cheeks. “Asshole.”

“The only thing I’m relatively afraid of is my dick falling off. You have the sexual drive of a rabbit.” 

“Oh, like you’re any better?” 

“I’m innocent in all this! You’re usually the one instigating. I’m just a mere pawn— a poor, unsuspecting nun led astray.”

“God, I can’t believe I let you fuck me.” 

///

The following weekend, Harry officially invites Y/N over to his house. 

It had been talked about in passing a while back, and he figures it's only fair considering all the time they’ve ever spent together has been solely at her place. Plus, he could tell she was curious to see what his living situation is like, which is valid. You can tell a lot about people through their home, and when you’re sleeping with someone on the regular, you want to learn as much about them as possible. It’s important to know who you’re getting into bed with. Literally. 

Harry’s proud of his condo. He keeps it clean, he keeps it organized, and he keeps it styled in a manner that combines his Victorian gothic roots with modern day aesthetics. The floorboards of the apartment are made of waxed light-wash wood, most of the expanse of his living room covered in a furry dark grey rug. The lightness of the ground is contrasted by the matte mahogany walls, of which the largest is covered in Harry’s collection of first edition artwork. He had picked out every single piece himself throughout the span of the last two centuries, ranging from modern digital technique canvases to nineteenth century oil paintings, all arranged in neat alternating rows from oldest to newest. He can’t help that he’s such a stickler; his mom had raised him so. 

Though his art wall is his pride and joy, the glass wall that overlooks the city skyline comes in at a close second. Harry loves the city, despite the fact that he was born in a seemingly irrelevant town whose only redeeming quality was the bustling public market. Urban regions are just full of so much life, excitement, and potential, which are all concepts he never really got to explore before he transitioned. Cities represent everything he wanted as a young man, when he thought he had prosperous years ahead of him and an entire life left to build; they represent diversity, unique experiences, and endless possibilities. When that was stripped from him, he began to bounce around different countries and cities all over the world, seeking a place that would fill the hole his dreams had left behind. Los Angeles fit that space like a puzzle piece. 

That glorified window just means more to him than anyone could possibly know. Sometimes at night, he’ll just stand by it with his arms relaxed across his chest, watching the city gleam and glitter as individuals from all different backgrounds go about their business, blissfully ignorant to the beautiful concept that they all contribute to something much bigger— a concept that only centuries of wisdom could reveal. When he’s not wracked with jealousy and spite, looking out that window and witnessing the world change and evolve is therapeutic, in a way. It allows Harry to live vicariously through others who get to have what he never did. 

Aside from his art collection and the glass wall, the chandeliers that hang from his cavernous ceiling are third on his list of treasured possessions. They’re special and no one on this earth owns anything like them; Harry made sure of that. They were created by a Swedish interior designer Harry commissioned about ten years ago, so they are custom-made in every aspect of the term. They took months to construct and finalize, which is hardly difficult to believe, given their grandeur. Each chandelier is made of two extensive layers of delicate golden chains, all arranged around a wire center, connected by light bulbs at each peak. It gives his home a chic, avant-garde atmosphere that mirrors his personality down to the last chain link. 

The rest of his flat is tailored to compliment these three major determining factors. The wood paneling all around his apartment is carved with intricate, loopy designs, his two rounded coffee tables are made of the same marble that resides across his kitchen counters, and his kitchen sits directly under the second story ledge with elongated fluorescent poles embedded into the room’s ceiling, eloquently highlighting the creme walls and polished detailings of all his appliances. His sectional couches are made of an off-brown leather, covered in large rectangular couch cushions with a checkered print embroidered across the pillow cases, and weighted fleece blankets litter some areas of the elegant sofas. A wide staircase leads up to the second floor, made of grey glass steps and metal railings. 

The top story of his condo is less Victorian era, more modern composition. The ground is dark maroon carpeting, and the ledge leads to one singular corridor that splits into two seperate rooms at either ends. One is the master bedroom, and the other is an accompanying bedroom which he uses for storage. His room isn’t anything extravagant, per se. It’s big, but his decor is minimalistic, covered in all different muted shades of blacks and greys, from the comforter on his king-sized bed to the tall dresser. A fifty inch flat-screen is mounted on the wall, but he hardly uses it since the one in his living room is larger; it’s only really there as an ornament. Starburst lights hang from his ceiling— smaller, downplayed versions of his chandeliers— and his walk-in closet stands parallel to the entrance of his bathroom. 

The humongous bathroom was meant for two people, pretty obvious in the double-sink set up, but he doesn’t dwell on it much. He isn’t one for dating, and he’s just happy to have that luxury because it comes in handy the morning after one night stands. He has a jacuzzi-like bathtub, lined with water jets and all, and a big walk-in shower with a large overhead panel instead of a regular showerhead. The whole room is made of dark marble and porcelain, and he couldn’t possibly adore it more. Some of his best experiences had happened in this room, explicit and otherwise. 

In the end, Harry has every right to be arrogantly proud of his apartment. It had taken him months to decorate, years to fill with fond memories, and an immortal lifetime to find. He loves it with every trace of his soul, even when others disagree. Namely, Niall, who had mocked his sophisticated relics and old-timey architecture from the first time he’d set foot past the threshold; “You went the dark gothic route? Really? Way to feed into the stereotype, Dracula.” 

But no matter what anyone says, this is who he is, and he couldn’t be happier. After decades of migrating and aimlessly searching the globe, he’d finally found a place he could call home, and absolutely no one could take that from him. Especially not some Irish moron who doesn’t even know the definition of “foyer.”

How Harry manages to afford his flat is a whole other intriguing tale.

It had come up in a pillow talk conversation with Y/N once, and he had told her the story he feeds to any human who asks. He’s a regional manager for an offshore company and it’s mainly a lot of online work. Handling duties through business emails, videochat meetings, job portals, and things of the such. It paints a valid image as to why he’s home all the time. He also claims to be the company’s lone contact stationed in California, so he handles all of the responsibilities that would normally be bestowed upon three or four people. This paints a valid explanation as to how his imaginary position would tether such a high pay grade, which justifies his luxurious living arrangement.

That story is part of the truth. Harry does indeed have ties with corporate businesses. That is, ties to their CEOs’ pockets. It’s surprisingly easy to get past secretaries and security dressed in a nice suit and thousand dollar leather shoes, especially with the help of compulsion and Harry’s golden charisma. Thanks to those tools, he has managed to convince some of the biggest leaders in corporate California to quietly deposit generous sums of money into his bank account once a month. And with his persuasive supernatural abilities, he convinces them to write it off as regularly scheduled charity donations in their minds. That’s how he makes a living for himself— by scamming the rich. Xander likes to take the piss and call him a sugar baby, but Harry sees himself as more of a modern day Robin Hood, instead. 

Mitch says his charade is unlawful, but considering how corrupt the business world already is, the vampire feels next to no guilt. The one percent have always taken advantage of those poorer than them— that was obvious even back in Harry’s time— and he doesn’t see anything wrong with taking advantage of them right back, now that he has the means to. How’s that saying go? “Fuck the bourgeoisie” and all that. 

Everything taken into consideration, Harry’s pretty excited to show Y/N his condo. Watching people’s faces break into awe the second he turns the lights on always gives him such a deep surge of satisfaction. It makes all the hassle worth it.  

The immortal is currently sitting in his vintage car, flicking through his Spotify playlist to find something to entertain him while he waits for Y/N to finish her shift. He had offered to pick her up, knowing that it’s what any courteous host would do, and she had appreciatively accepted, telling him she’d be out by eight P.M. It’s seven fifty-three now and Harry had arrived around seven fifty, taking the slot right in front of the cafe’s entrance so she can spot him as soon as she walks out. These ten minutes are the longest he’s ever had to endure, which says a lot considering he’s endured tons of patience-testing moments in his two hundred years.

Harry swipes his thumb down the glass screen of his phone, sampling songs left and right to see what will stick. After listening to the first few chords of an array of forties dance music, seventies rock and roll, and twenty-first century bubblegum pop, he settles for Rodeo by Lil Nas X. Harry has a very intricate taste in music— it’s one of the traits he’s most proud of— and Mitch often tells him he’s too snotty when it comes to his preferences. He’ll admit it freely that, yes, he can be a piece of work musically, but just because he thinks the industry peaked in the seventies doesn’t mean he hates modern music. He likes most of it, including rap, and Lil Nas X happens to be one of his favorites, much to everyone’s surprise. Most of the artist’s songs are eccentric not only lyrically but also instrumentally, to the point where it’s almost comical— who names a song Panini, of all things?— but the music is catchy and Harry can let loose to it easily. 

The vampire also happened to meet the musician, on one occasion. He ran into him at a club and after a few drinks and some banter, somehow ended up getting invited over to a party at the celebrity’s Malibu mansion. That night is a blur, definitely due to the copious amounts of alcohol and psychedelics, but Harry remembers they had fun and that the guy was worth a listen. In fact, he was the genius that came up with the theme for the rapper’s Rodeo music video. 

A light knocking on the passenger’s seat window brings him out of his memories. Y/N stands outside, hugging her arms loosely over her tummy, decked in her usual work uniform of a navy polo and black skinny jeans. When the two lock eye contact, she gives him a soft wave and a tired smile. Harry lifts two fingers in greeting, returning her polite gesture and swiftly lowering the window. He leans forward across the center console, his grin taking on a playful hue, voice carrying the same effect. 

“Uber for Y/N?” 

The girl snorts and rolls her eyes, but plays along, reaching forward and jiggling the handle of his black Cadillac symbolically. “That’s me, yes. Open up.” 

“Eh, eh, eh.” Harry tuts, wagging a finger in her direction and then making a motion that tells her to back away. “I’m gonna have to see some ID. It’s one of our new safe driver policies. Gotta make sure you are who you say you are, miss.” 

Y/N’s expression drops flatly, eyes half-lidded as he smiles up at her brightly, batting his eyelashes innocently. “Open the door before you end up sucking your own dick tonight.” 

Harry’s shit-eating face falls so fast, it causes her to burst into laughter. A soft click vibrates through the handle below her fingers. “I’ll waive the background check. Just this once.”  

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Y/N taunts, yanking the door open and ducking into the shotgun seat, gently tugging it closed behind her. 

Once the human is situated in her spot, she releases a lengthy sigh, sinking down against the cushions as she grabs her seat belt and clicks it into place. 

Harry puts his cell phone down into the cubby hole below the stereo set, setting the car in reverse and slinging an arm behind her headrest to get a better view as he backs out of the parking space. His gaze momentarily flickers to her slumped form as the car retreats slowly, tone curious. “Long day?”

Y/N glimpses over, giving him a quick once-over and taking in his olive green Nike jumper, ripped denim boyfriend jeans, and pastel yellow Vans. He looks so boyishly cute, which is ironic given the premise of tonight’s rendezvous. The shoes (which he had worn the night they’d met all those weeks ago) and the position he’s in (perched above her with his sharp jaw and neck flexing as he cranes his torso to look for oncoming traffic) flashes her back to the first time she had been in his car. They had been way less acquainted, she had been much less relaxed, much more nervous, but the encounter very much carried the same exact intentions. That recollection makes her lips quirk a bit. The pair had grown so comfortable with each other since then, that Friday evening feels like it happened decades ago. 

“Yeah.” Y/N murmurs softly, gladly indulging a deep inhale of the vanilla and tobacco scent she had become familiar with, allowing it to soothe her nerves and wash away the stress of a hard day. “I’m just happy it’s over and that the weekend’s finally started. Wanna forget all about it.” 

“Well, that’s what I’m here for, love!” Harry plops back into his seat, shifting his car into drive and gifting her his famous brilliant smile, dimples winking to life as he taps his ringed fingers across his steering wheel humorously. “I’ve made you forget your name plenty of times before; I’m pretty sure I can erase one shitty work shift just fine.”

Y/N scoffs at his pompous claim, reaching up and prying the hair tie out of her locks, looping it over her wrist and shushing her stiff roots. She tucks strands behind her ears, the corners of her mouth twitching in endearment at the giddiness of his aura. “Just drive, Sherlock.” 

The mortal isn’t surprised to find that building in which the vampire lives is one of the tallest in the city, and that it’s basically smack in the center, as well. One look at Harry and anybody could immediately tell he thrives off being the center of attention, so of course his home is a direct reflection of that. Refined boy, refined personality, refined environment. It’s practically a law of science. 

Once Harry’s car is parked and the ignition rumbles to a smooth stop, Y/N unbuckles her seat belt and goes to unlock the passenger’s side door. Right as her hand is wrapping around the handle bar, the door swings open of its own accord and she just barely manages to stifle a blood-curdling scream full of shocked fear. When her eyes focus, Harry is standing there holding the door open for her, features painted with cocky amusement. 

“How did you—?” The girl whips around to look at the empty driver’s seat, eyebrows cinching in bewilderment as she turns back to face him. “How did you get around so fast?” 

Harry shrugs his shoulders offhandedly, reaching one bejeweled hand down to aid her out of the vehicle. “I did track when I was younger. Made me a fast walker.” 

Y/N hesitantly takes it, body language still slightly tense from the jump scare. With his help, she gradually climbs out, the door shutting behind her as she sweeps her sight around the parking garage in wonder. This is the first time Harry has ever invited her anywhere, let alone to where he spends most of his life. She doesn’t want to miss a thing. Even the simplest aspect can tell you a lot about a person. 

Y/N jerks a tad when she feels her friend’s cold fingers slipping down her palm, sifting between her own. She glances down at their intertwined hands for a second, a warm glow bursting through her chest. She’s always admired how his are so much bigger. 

Harry tugs her forward toward the elevator at the other end of the parking lot, bottom lip caught between his teeth in a sly smirk. “C’mon, Watson. Let me show you around.” 

Y/N stumbles after him, allowing the boy to guide her to where she needs to go as he weeds through cars effortlessly. She suddenly chimes up from behind, asking a random question to fill the leftover silence their footsteps spare. “That car next to yours had such a weird license plate. What the fuck does ‘craic’ mean?” 

Harry chuckles knowingly, perfectly aware of whose car she is referring to. “It’s this odd thing Irish people say. Utter rubbish, honestly.” 

A comfortable quietness fills the air of the elegant elevator as it shoots up towards the twenty-fourth floor of the skyscraper, the only other sound being the gentle lullaby of a nameless tune wafting through the speakers above their heads. Harry finds himself studying Y/N as she looks out at the city through the glass walls, the lights of the exterior buildings casting a beautiful buttery gleam across her relaxed characteristics, along with a radiant glint over the surface of her glossy eyes. Despite the slightly smeared mascara staining her waterline and the inherent frizziness her hair carries after being pulled into a tight ponytail all day, Harry finds that she looks nice. Pretty, even. 

The girl senses him staring, craning her head to return his gaze, the edges of her lips lilting upwards lightheartedly. He returns the gesture, peeling away to focus on something— anything— else. He deems the control panel a worthy replacement.

As the numbers on the dial drag by, Harry finds himself absentmindedly thumbing over Y/N’s knuckles. She doesn’t seem to notice or mind, so he continues doing it, massaging the crest of each bump and pressing down gently along the troughs. He enjoys the sensation of her silky warm skin heating his icy own, and he ponders whether she likes how cold his touch is, or if she hates it as much as he does. He expels that notion from his mind; he refuses to let such a stupid concept upset him. He just keeps caressing her hand, restraining his mind from ambling too far into its meaning. It’s just to pass the time. 

He keeps the movements going until their ride skates to a joltless halt with a sharp ding! and then he steps out, having to give his full attention to leading her down the long corridor to his flat. Y/N is so caught up in drinking up her surroundings, she almost bumps into the creature when he comes to an abrupt stop in front of the entrance of what she can only deduce is his home. Harry drops her hand, much to her disappointment, fishing into his back pocket for his keys. He patiently filters through his keychain, picking out the right one and working it into the lock, a soft click emitting from the mechanism. 

Harry pushes the door open with his palm, standing off to the side just outside the threshold and tilting his head towards it, posture bowing slightly. “Ladies first.” 

Y/N thanks him quietly, taking a cautious step forward into his hallway. She can’t help the way her heart skips a beat at his gentlemanly tendencies; she rarely meets anyone as respectful as Harry seems to be and she finds his old-timey attributes to be refreshing. Helping her out the car, taking her hand to guide her through the parking lot, rubbing at her knuckles innocently, holding the door open for her— it’s all such an archaic form of chivalry she wishes she’d see more often these days. She doesn’t know if it’s a British thing, if he had just been raised like that, or if he simply does it to get laid, but she’s thankful for it either way. 

With one last glance at her friend over her shoulder, she begins wandering down the dark narrow path unsurely. The sound of the door slinking shut behind her and Harry’s footsteps ease her. 

She stops once she senses the corridor open up into a larger space, which she guesses is his living room. A soft gasp escapes her at the sight before her. The whole area is washed in darkness, the only source of light stemming from the large glass pane that stretches from the floor of the apartment to its tall ceiling. Dozens of buildings and cars glimmer below, the breath-taking image of the lively city looking almost like a snapshot from a professional movie. It’s absolutely gorgeous and she feels like she could stare at it for eons. 

A chilly hand suddenly presses along the dip of her spine, ushering her forward an inch or two, Harry’s invisible voice and warm breath hitting the shell of her left ear. “S’cuse me, dove.”   

The boy reaches behind her for the light switch and the condo bursts into radiance with one simple flick of his wrist. 

“Oh...my God.”

Harry’s home is something straight out of a luxury catalogue. The light floorboards and the mahogany panels. The massive leather couches and hand-sewn cushions. The extravagant chandeliers and glass staircase. The marble kitchen and generously packed liquor shelves. The ginormous wall of priceless artwork, littered with pieces from all different eras of history. It feels like stepping into a decor wonderland.

“Not too bad, huh?” Harry pipes up playfully, anchoring her back into reality from the floaty stupor that had consumed her mind. 

“Not too—? Are you kidding?” Y/N sputters incredulously, whizzing her head to the side sharply. “You were keeping an entire Four Seasons royal suite from me?!”

Harry belts out a bundle of childish giggles, the edges of his eyes crinkling and the tip of his button nose twitching. “I never thought of it much, to be honest. I’d grown to like your place.” 

“Right. Because a creaky mattress and a kitchen the size of a broom closet is so much more satisfying than chandeliers and a fucking glass wall.”

The vampire glimpses around his flat indicatively. “Okay, I see your point.”

“Exactly.” 

Y/N drifts forward, running the tips of her fingers across the backrest of the aged leather sofa and along the corners of the throw pillow, doing a slow circle at the middle of his home, taking everything in a second time around to make sure it isn’t a mirage. “Fuck, this is incredible. Is your boss looking for any more regional managers, by any chance?”

Harry follows after her, tucking his hands into the back pockets of his boyfriend jeans, chewing along the inside of his cheek to suppress a proud smile— a result of her explosive reaction. “I’m afraid my position is the one and only, sorry.”

Y/N droops her shoulders in exaggerated contempt, presenting a shitty English accent to tease him. “Bollocks.”

It garners the designated feedback, her tummy somersaulting at Harry’s exorbitant laughter. 

The boy comes to stand before her, cocking his head to the side questioningly towards his kitchen. “Can I offer you a drink?”

Y/N glimpses over at his bar area, eyes dancing over his extensive array of fancy bottles. “Oh, please do.”

Despite only having known Y/N for a few weeks, Harry has gotten quite acquainted with her tastes, even outside of sexual matters. She doesn't like the taste of alcohol, but she likes its effects. And he likes them, too, if he’s being honest. Her blood always begins to smell more appetizing after just a few sips and the way her cheeks heat up so easily when she’s buzzed always makes his breathing trip. 

He works his extensive skills, pulling from his liquor cabinet and mixing flavored liquids and syrups until he comes up with something that he thinks the girl will enjoy. It’s fruity, with hints of peach, lime, and strawberry, but also warm and fulfilling, with a rich whiskey and a few dashes of bitters. He plunks in a couple of ice cubes and mixes it together with a bar spoon, tapping it against the rim with finality and swiping it over his tongue in a quick taste test. He’s pretty happy with his concoction. 

Harry glances up to where Y/N is leaning against the armrest of his couch, her legs crossed before her as she stares at one of the abstract paintings mounted on his wall. It’s an original, as are the rest of them, which he had purchased some odd seventy years ago from a barely known artist whose talent had gone to waste in the world. It’s a deconstructed sunflower, with the color palette inverted and the strokes of the brush uneven and jagged. Odd and complicated, but beautiful, nonetheless. Its complexity is what makes it significant. 

The vampire slowly wanders over from his kitchen, holding her drink in one hand and a cloth napkin in the other. He takes the spot beside her along the armrest, speaking wistfully as if recalling a fond memory. “It’s a flower.”

Y/N nods slowly in recognition, peeling her gaze away with the corners of her lips jilting. “Mmhm, a sunflower.”

Harry’s brows jump in shock. Barely anyone ever guesses the identity correctly. He’s found that as time passes and humanity becomes more reliant on technology rather than cognizant knowledge, society in general has reduced to a more pea-brained state than ever. As a result, the amount of people who can interpret and understand the meaning behind complex artwork has greatly diminished, unfortunately, so he’s pleasantly surprised to find that one of the few who still possesses that talent happens to be the girl he’s shagging. “Wow, that’s a first. It’s so unusual, no one ever really gets it.”

“I guess I just have an affinity for the unusual.” His guest quips, giving him a jesting shrug of her eyebrows and a suggestive grin. 

You have no idea.

“You underestimated me, Holmes.” 

“That I did. My sincerest apologies.” Harry returns her joking simper, proceeding to then dip an index finger inside the stout glass in his grasp, bringing it up before her face. “Taste.”

Without breaking eye contact, Y/N parts her lips and allows him to coax the wet digit in, the tangy flavor of the mixture making her taste buds tingle. She encloses her mouth around his finger, lulling her tongue along it slowly with a mischievous glint shining across her irises. 

Harry’s prominent jaw clenches as he watches the scene unfold, breath bated and a moan threatening to betray him. She truly wastes no time.

He gradually pulls his finger from her tongue, struggling to clear his throat, missing its texture already. “How is it? More syrup? More biters?”

Y/N gazes up at him drunkenly, though it’s definitely not from the liquor. Her lips quirk cheekily as a result of how visibly frazzled she’d gotten him. “It’s perfect. Better than anything I’ve had at a club, that’s for sure.” 

“Yeah?” Harry taps his opal ring against the bottom of the lowball glass, trying to reign in his previous composure. “Think I could be a bartender?” 

“You don’t hit me as the type of person who has the patience for it.” The girl remarks wittily, slinking her head to the side and biting back a giggle when Harry makes a face at her.

“You make a valid point, I suppose.” The vampire responds with an airy sigh, nodding in surrender. “The stupid blabbing from drunk morons and impending fear of being vomited on would be too much for me. I wouldn’t last a day.” 

“You wouldn’t last a single night, let alone a whole day.”

“Alright, pipe down!” Harry deadpans, bumping her shoulder with his vengefully. “You’re bruising my ego.”

“It’s humongous,” Y/N snorts, shoving him in return, “it can take a few hits.”

The pair sit there in silence for a suspended moment, just taking in the expanse of the art before them. Harry then turns his torso towards her once more, bringing the drink in his grip up to her mouth. “Here, have a proper sip. Put my all into it.” 

Y/N obliges, looking up at him with her signature doe-like air of trusting innocence, allowing him to tip the hem of the cup against her mouth. The cool beverage filters through her taste buds and down her throat, the sweet and sour mixture leaving an enjoyable tingle in its wake. A few streams of the liquid bead out of the corners of her lips and Harry impulsively gathers them with the side of his index finger, the napkin in his other hand completely forgotten. 

As he goes to pull back in order to clean up, Y/N leans forward and traps his digit between her lips like before. This time, there’s a more insistent sultry hint sparkling around her pupils. 

“Christ...” Harry pants, watching Y/N work her way down his forefinger with a silent groan hinging on his teeth. 

He doesn’t deny himself from indulging the dirty action this time around. Her mouth is as soft and warm as ever, sending chills racing down his spine despite the sweater hugging his body. His mind slips for a second, reminiscing in all the other ways he’s felt the inside of her mouth before, a faint red tinge splattering across his cheekbones. 

Y/N draws his finger out, kissing messily across its length and over the pad, looking up at him through tension-heavied lashes. She doesn't speak a word, but her intentions are clear in the electricity between them.

He can’t hold back any longer, his next comment coming out as a pained growl. “God, you’re such a filthy little thing.”  

She hums softly in the back of her throat at his explicit compliment, suckling at the center of her bottom lip needily. “I like being your filthy little thing.”

Harry swallows thickly in order to keep himself somewhat tame, fangs suddenly pricking his tongue in warning.

The mortal scoots closer to him, sifting her fingers between his around the drink and bringing it upwards, downing the last couple of inches in one go. She draws the cup from his grasp, reaching over to set it down carefully on the coffee table before turning back and snuggling deeper into his heaving chest. 

Harry scoffs in amusement, but he can feel a certain charring scratching at the back of his throat. “Drinks like that are meant to be savored, darling. You’re not supposed to just pound them.” 

Y/N stretches her neck upwards, taking his earlobe between her teeth, lips wet and cold from the alcohol. His lashes flutter when her warm breath hits his skin, contradicting the sensations from before. 

“Why don’t you let me worry about how I drink, and you can worry about a different kind of pounding.”

And that’s all it takes, really. That’s all it takes for Harry to completely drop any self-control he has left. 

The creature jars his face towards her, large hand shooting upwards to grip her jaw firmly, holding her in place as he crashes their mouths together. It’s all tongue and clacking teeth, desperate whines and stuttered gasps. Y/N’s hands fumble for something to tether to while Harry takes it upon himself to grasp at her opposite hip with his free hand, yanking her onto his lap. She buries her fists in the cotton fabric of his jumper, balancing her knees on either sides of his parted thighs. The boy’s fingers coast from her jaw down to her throat, tightening ever so slightly. The action is minimal, but it reveals that flare of dominance Y/N has become addicted to. 

“Do you want it here?” Harry rasps against her eager tongue, smirking into the kiss when he feels her start to rock along the bulge that is beginning to tent his denim pants. “Do you want me to bend you over the couch and fuck you, baby? With the chandelier making your skin glow? Where we can put on a show for the whole city to see?”

It’s a tempting offer and his words obviously have some form of impact, seen in the way Y/N’s grinding takes on a hungrier, deeper pace against his clothed cock. 

“I want…” Y/N finds it difficult to voice her desires, the responsible party being the manner in which Harry glues cracked mewls onto the roof of her mouth. “I want it in your bed.” 

She doesn’t know why, but she just wants him to take her some place where the moment they share is intimate, unseen by the prying eyes of others. She wants to christen his bed exactly how he had done hers; she craves that strange connection, for some reason. Y/N isn’t naive, she knows she’s not the only person Harry has had in his home and in his sheets. But she wants that experience, nonetheless, even if it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. She knows she’s not his only, but at least she’s one. 

Harry slowly breaks their kiss, brushing the tip of his nose across her own in a small comforting gesture. He blinks at her groggily, the copper specks in his eyes glitzing under the golden hue of the lighting. When he speaks, its soft and low, almost as if he doesn’t want to risk another soul overhearing. “Okay. Whatever you want, it’s yours.” 

Y/N almost doesn’t get anything she wants, given that she nearly kills herself on the trek up the stairs, courtesy of her weakened knees and wobbly ankles. Harry just barely manages to save her, but he finds the occurrence too hilarious to spare her the embarrassment. 

“Stop laughing, it’s not funny!” She exclaims indignantly as he helps her up the last few glass steps, clinging to him like a scared puppy, her hands still shaking with adrenaline. “I could have died!” 

Her shrieking only makes him laugh harder and he nearly keels over, palm clutching his stomach as if to keep it from popping. “I’m sorry, I really am, but it’s just— your face when you— and how you tripped sideways— I—”

Y/N shoves him hard towards the corridor where his bedroom lies, but it’s hard to maintain an angry demeanor when the young man’s giggles sound like bells and when he looks so cute with his curls flopping across his forehead. “Dickhead.” 

They’re almost at his bedroom door when Harry grabs onto her wrist, tugging her roughly so that she lurches forward into his chest. He plants a wet kiss onto the bridge of her nose, expression entertained. “Stop being such a bad sport. It was pretty funny.”

“Yeah, okay.” She huffs begrudgingly, glancing down impatiently at his plump lips as he walks backwards down the hallway with her in tow. “You can invalidate my rage once you have a near death experience yourself.”

The irony of it all. 

Harry kicks the door open, ghosting his mouth over Y/N’s and watching her sight do a quick sweep around the area. “Welcome to my lair.” 

The human likes his aesthetic. The room has different hues of the same color, so it all ties together nicely, and the hanging lights look like miniature versions of the two large ones downstairs. The bed is huge, which is a relief because for once, they won’t have to actively worry about accidentally rolling off the edge mid-fuck. “It’s nice. Very chic.” 

“Thanks.” Harry reaches up and cups either side of her neck with his palms, dragging his damp lips over her chin and down the center of her jugular, smiling against her skin when he feels her shiver. “It doesn't have a bookshelf wall like yours, but I make due.”

“Yeah.” Y/N wisps out weakly, leaning her head back as he speckles his mouth across that sensitive point on her throat he discovered ages ago. “I bet.”

She feels Harry’s touch travel down her torso, cold fingers suddenly smearing across her love handles beneath her work shirt. His grip tightens at the hem with the intention of pulling the polo off, breath hot as it washes over her collarbones. “Wanna find out just how good I make it work?”

Y/N’s arms instinctively raise on command, her reply shaky and fragile. “Yes, please.” 

Harry makes it work. He makes it work so fucking well. He doesn’t need crazy positions or any vibrating toys to make her feel good; he just knows her so thoroughly by now that he’s able to tend to every single one of her needs like it’s his sole purpose. The sex is missionary, with her splayed out across her back upon his mound of feathered pillows, her thighs clamped over his hips as he slams into her at a harsh, curt pace. Her calves are tied around the backs of his thighs, her nails are carving memories into the broad expanse of his shoulders, they’re both panting curse words and encouragement into each other’s mouths, and he’s cradling her to his chest as if he wants to absorb her heartbeat right through her ribs. If only obtaining one were that easy. 

Y/N allows her head to fall back against the cushions, drawing away from the prolonged kiss only because she needs air to continue. Harry’s lips busy themselves elsewhere, running down the valley of her chest and toying with one of her pebbled nipples. Y/N’s back gives a sharp arch the second he brushes across the sensitive nub and the taunting coo he releases goes straight to her core. 

“Liked that, darling? Like it when I kiss you there?”

The girl’s lashes have fallen shut, her eyes lulling around in their sockets as he maintains a steady rhythm between her thighs, ramming into her with so much force, the headboard is knocking into the wall. It’s loud and intense enough that Harry has to fit one of his palms between the railings, bracing the weight of the bed in order to prevent a hole from forming. 

Y/N’s voice fills the dense atmosphere, so shattered and raw, she can hardly understand herself. “It feels so— so good, H.” 

“I love it when you call me that. Sounds so pretty coming from your lips.” The vampire’s tongue flicks over her nipple a handful of times, dark veins momentarily webbing over the whites of his eyes at the cracked whimper she lets loose. “And of course it feels good. I always make you feel good, don’t I? Always make my girl cum so—fucking—hard.” 

Y/N’s trembling fingers card into the curls along the nape of Harry’s neck as he thrusts to his words, twisting them around her knuckles and swimming in the throaty groan he pours over the clammy skin of her breasts. Her whisper sounds distant and dreamy. “Please...Please don’t stop.”

Harry gazes up at her through heavy lashes, lapping at her chest more fervently, accent thick and deep. “I won’t, baby. Not until I have you dripping all over my sheets.”

After a few more minutes of fractured moans bouncing around the panels of the room and the noise of wet skin slapping together, something catches Y/N’s bleary eyes. She wills past the blissful fog in her mind, focusing on the intriguing object hanging from one of the railings of Harry’s bedpost, swaying back and forth wildly due to his strong tempo. 

“Are those...Are those handcuffs?” 

Harry’s attention jumps to where hers is pinned, his powerful stride coming to a gradual stop. He’s heaving and shuddering above her, ringlets matted to his jaw and across his temples, cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of cherry red. His Adam’s Apple bobs once and he gives a short nod. “Y-Yeah. I’ve had them for a while...”

The hope dripping from his voice is practically palpable and Y/N interprets it easily. She glances down at him as he takes quivering inhales against her chest, his eyes bleeding lust. Her mumble is so quiet and soft, he wonders how it’s possible for her to make some of the preposterously loud sounds he’s used to hearing whenever he’s buried this deep. “Use them on me. Please?”

Harry bends to her request without hesitation. He locks her wrists into the restraints, sponging a kiss onto each before giving them one hard tug to check for security. He then regains his rough slams, but with more fervor than before. 

The monster sits back onto his heels, groping her waist roughly and working her against his thighs, watching welts form on her flesh along the pads of his fingers. Y/N unconsciously begins circling her hips to match his speed and the fractured groan that rips out of him makes her walls tighten. He looks incredible looming in front of her, head toppled back between his shoulder blades, bouncing to his every ram. His throat flexes with the weight, jaw taut and inked pectorals glistening with sweat under the dim lights dangling from his ceiling. “That’s it, pet, just like that. Love the way you ride it. You’re so fucking tight and warm and...and just— Christ, just fuck me.”

She wishes she could frame this moment in time and drag it out forever.  

Harry swings his head forward again, blinking the blurriness from his vision to take in the image before him. Y/N just looks so fucking gorgeous like that, tied down at his beck and call, her chest bouncing pertly as her fingers bunch around the chain link, thighs clinging to his waist as she chews her bottom lip raw in an attempt to control her noises. 

The vampire ducks down, connecting their mouths in a sloppy kiss that cajoles her into spilling all the moans she had been withholding. He feels them trickle down his lungs and diffuse into his bones, flames lapping across his insides as their foreheads bump and noses smudge, ragged breaths intermingling. “Let it out for me, hm? Wanna know how I’m making you feel, don’t care who hears.”

As if that isn’t enough, there’s an instance where Harry’s animalistic senses suddenly enhance and he comes to the realization that the metal cuffs have made a tiny laceration along her skin. 

A thin trail of blood travels down her suspended arm, but she doesn’t seem to notice, too lost in the pleasure Harry is pounding into the pit of her stomach. So he simply leans upwards and licks the sweet droplet clean, feeling heat spark across every fiber of his being. He laps up the entire stream and then presses a tender kiss to her palm for good measure, grunting out a gentle, “There’s a good girl.” when she whines at the affectionate gesture. 

The release Harry is getting from between Y/N’s legs mixes with the ecstasy her blood brings, and it shoves him over the edge in a manner he hasn’t experienced since that first time they slept together all those weeks ago. Since the first time he tasted what lies in her veins, while also simultaneously getting to taste the indescribable relief her body so readily brings him.

After all is said and done that night, something peculiar happens. After they both milk their orgasms for everything it’s worth, and after Y/N gives into exhaustion in his arms with her wrists bruised and a content watery smile on her face, and after he gets a heftier drink from her neck and heals the two little puncture wounds with his own blood...The most bizarre, unexpected event occurs. 

Harry falls asleep soundly for the first time in months, and all he dreams about is how Y/N tasted. 

///

Y/N wakes up the next morning to her body covered in Harry’s Nike jumper, to an empty spot beside her in the messy duvet, to a familiar tune tinging her ears from a distance, and to a satisfying ache between her thighs. 

As soon as she cracks the bedroom door open, the smell of pancakes wafts in through the chilled morning air. Specifically, lemon and blueberry pancakes. Her grandmother’s lemon and blueberry pancakes.

A shiver runs down Y/N’s spine the second she sets a toe along the cold glass panels of Harry’s staircase. She takes a deep breath, pulling the extra length of the sweater’s sleeves over her fists and tugging the hem of the article downwards as if she could convince it to cover more than just half her thighs. She carefully works her way down the steps, flinching at the iciness that travels up her legs with every motion. When she finally thunks down emptily onto the light-wash floorboards, her body has grown accustomed to the temperature. As she pads across the furry rug in Harry’s living room, she finds herself wondering why everything connected to him is always so unusually cold— colder than any normal person could withstand. His touch, his lips, the tip of his nose, his forehead, his chest, even his thighs; everything is always freezing, and she doesn’t understand how he can bear it. It’s such an odd affinity to have. 

The human gradually wanders into the vampire’s kitchen, peeking inside the room from behind one of the archway’s walls. What she sees throws her for a loop. 

Harry is cooking breakfast, as she expected from the sweet scent she’d awoken to, but he’s doing it in a manner she never really expected from him. 

Music stems from a portable speaker he has situated at the center of the marble kitchen island, blaring loud enough to fill the entire giant home with high notes, guitar chords, and acapella riffs. The young man is dancing across his kitchen as he cooks, clad in nothing but a set of black Calvin Klein briefs and a pair of fuzzy magenta socks. Y/N rakes down his body, admiring the crimson and purple love bites she had left on his chest and the raspberry red scratches zig-zagging across his back, the marks flexing with the movements of his muscles. They’re strangely faint, for some reason. Practically barely there. 

She chalks it up to the fact that maybe she hadn’t bruised him as much as she’d thought. 

Y/N forces herself to keep her mind from straying onto anymore explicit topics; it’s probably not even ten A.M. yet. She needs to get herself under control.

Grooving while in the kitchen isn’t necessarily weird (she’s guilty of it herself), but Harry’s dancing techniques very much are. The only accurate depiction of it is that for a boy in his twenties, he dances like an old geezer in his eighties. His moves are choppy and old-schooled, almost like what you’d expect to see in a nineteen fifties disco hall, and watching him ebb and flow across the tiled ground to choreography similar to that of Dirty Dancing and Footloose... It would send anybody into a fit of laughter. Especially since Harry is so tall and lanky, so how he manages to move in such a way is beyond her understanding. 

Aside from that, his choice of music is baffling, as well. Not only because she recognizes the soundtrack, but because she would have never expected someone like him— with his cocky behavior and overly-confident caliber— to be into these types of songs at all. She always pegged him for the seventies rock and roll type. 

“You like Hamilton?” 

Harry’s actions creak to a halt and he whips around towards where the disturbance had stemmed, spatula clutched in one hand and a marble plate stacked with pancakes in the other. His face breaks into a bright smile, voice slathered with dramatic friendliness. “Well, look who finally got up! I was starting to think you were dead, Sleeping Beauty.”

Y/N narrows her eyes at him mockingly, walking over to the kitchen counter and propping herself onto her elbows, chin in hand as she watches him set down the platter of food before her. She tips forward onto her toes, taking a deep inhale of the homey, sugary smell, letting it wash over her in flashes of childhood memories. “Are these like the ones I make?”

“Lemon and blueberry, yeah.” Harry bobs his head casually, turning around to place his metal spatula down into the sink, as well as to retrieve a glass bottle of maple syrup from one of his cupboards. “They’re pretty close, I think. I’ve never seen you use a recipe or measuring cups or anything when you make them, so I kinda eyeballed it to the best of my ability. Hope I did your nan justice.”

He pours a decently-sized glop of syrup over the mountain of treats and Y/N watches excitedly as it trickles down all the layers. He then pushes back from the table, pulling open a drawer and rummaging through, continuing to whistle along to the tune of Satisfied as he bops the cabinet closed with his hip and sets down an extra pair of forks and knives beside the plate. 

Harry cuts a neat triangle out of the pancake at the top, pointing at her with his fork as he shrugs his brows nonchalantly. “And to answer your question from before: yes, I do like Hamilton.”

“Hm. Interesting.” Y/N murmurs, going cross-eyed as Harry offers her the forkful of food in his possession, poking at her mouth playfully and getting maple syrup all over her lips. She opens obediently, allowing him to feed her the piece. “You don’t really seem like the type of guy— oh, wow, these are actually really good!”

Harry bites into his lower lip with his two front teeth, a proud smile dimpling his cheeks as the light draft from the air vent ruffles a couple of his sex-mussed ringlets across his forehead. “Yeah? You mean it?”

The mortal nods her head vigorously as she finishes chewing and swallowing, wiping away some of the leftover syrup from her top lip with her middle finger and sucking it clean. “Yeah! You hit it spot on.”

“Aces. I should be on The Great British Bake Off.” Harry makes a small, celebratory fist bump next to his hip and the childish gesture makes Y/N snort softly. 

“Like I was saying, you don’t really strike me as the type of guy who would be into musicals.” The girl comments, watching her friend cut another triangle out of the first pancake and pop it into his own mouth. 

The vampire chews thoughtfully for a second, lifting one shoulder offhandedly and swallowing fully before talking. “I’m really not, to be honest. But this specific musical is pretty good. The songs are catchy.”

He nudges the other pair of utensils across the counter for emphasis, silently inviting her to dig into the dish along with him. She accepts, slicing down the other side of the stack as he leans forward onto his elbows, mimicking her stance. He gives her a curious glance. “What about you? Do you like musicals?” 

Y/N shrugs, poking a few chunks of food onto her fork. “Not really, but I had a major Hamilton phase back in college. That’s why I recognized it.” 

Harry hums in understanding, picking a blueberry off and chewing it slowly, a sly smirk beginning to tweak the corners of his mouth. “So were you, like, a nerd back then?” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say a nerd, but I had decent grades and was pretty quiet.”

He swallows down audibly, blinking impassively. “That’s literally the definition of a nerd.” 

Y/N returns his flat expression. “Fuck off.”

Harry throws his palms up in peaceful surrender, but he still has that shit-eating grin present. “Alright, fine, fine...It’s okay if you were, though. You were probably one of those cute ones, y’know? With the clunky glasses and innocent goody-goody face.” 

“Shut up.”

“Oh, and with one of those short little plaid skirts?” He releases a pained groan, clutching his chest and closing his eyes for a second. She has no doubt he’s sketching some type of graphic image of her in his mind. “God, I bet you looked so good. Do you still have it? Can you wear it for me?”

“I said shut up!” Y/N reaches forward and stabs at his tummy lightly with her fork, ignoring the warmth crawling up her neck and across her cheeks. “Fucking perv.”

Harry smacks her utensil away with his own, giggling lightly as she tries to prick him again, continuing to fight her off. “I’m just asking a question! For science!” 

Y/N twists her fork around his, trying to outmaneuver him into dropping it. “How could my fashion sense in college possibly contribute to science in any way?” 

The vampire easily catches onto her play, slipping himself out of her grasp and trying to trap her makeshift sword down against the tabletop. He purses his lips into a simper, glimpsing up at her through his lashes and quirking his brows cheekily. “Biologically, of course. It contributes to my solo reproductive activities.”

“You are vile.” 

“Really? ‘Cause you seemed pretty happy to help with said activities last night.” 

Y/N drops her fork onto the brim of the platter, reaching up to massage at her temples and keep herself from swatting Harry’s eyeballs out of their sockets. “I’m finished.” 

“Yeah,” the jade of his irises glimmers coyly as he sets down his utensil beside hers in a ceasefire, “you definitely finished.”

Harry chuckles boyishly as Y/N drags her palms down her face, trying to hide away how flustered he’s getting her. She decides to change the subject, not caring to steer the conversation smoothly at all, but rather jumping to another topic right away. “So does this mean you have all the lyrics memorized? Since you like them so much?” 

“I do, yeah.” Harry taps his fingers against the marble counter to the beat of the song currently playing. “Do you?” 

“I was obsessed, so of course I do.” Y/N reasons, her own digits following in tune with the immortal’s. “I think Non-Stop was probably my favorite to sing. It made for a good shower concert.”

“Well, it’s settled then.” Harry quips happily, reaching for his phone and tapping across the screen. “We’re duetting this. Right now. C’mon, Burr.”

Y/N’s motions stop, shyness creeping in from the back of her brain. “Oh, I don’t know, Harry. I never really—”

Her refusal is interrupted by the beginning of the arrangement mentioned, the notes blasting through the speaker as Harry purposefully turns up the volume to drown her out. He taps at his ear symbolically, mouthing, “Sorry, I can't hear you!” and he doesn’t even attempt to ward off the evil grin creeping across his face. 

“Harry, I’m serious—” 

But it’s already too late. Harry juts his hand out in front of him, pointing at his companion with a theatrical edge as he begins to serenade, picking up the slack of her part. 

“After the war I went back to New York. A-After the war I went back to New York. I finished up my studies and I practiced law. I practiced law, Burr worked next door!”

He looks at her expectantly, urging her to jump into the next half as her assigned role. Y/N muscles down her hesitation and recites the lines timidly with her brows creased in hesitation, but at least she’s participating. “Even though we started at the very same time, Alexander Hamilton began to climb. How to account for his rise to the top?”

Harry joins her in the next stanza, grabbing her hand midair in encouragement, trying to shake her out of her rut. “Man, the man is non-stop!”

Y/N is surprised at how well they sound harmonizing together, and she can feel her discomfort slowly begin to melt. She watches as Harry freely boasts his solo with absolutely no remorse, making grand gestures as he slides down the side of the counter, his movements dragging her along. 

“Gentlemen of the jury, I'm curious, bear with me. Are you aware that we're making history?” The boy taps at his chin to symbolize that he’s thinking, acting out the story the lyrics construct. “This is the first murder trial of our brand-new nation, the liberty behind deliberation.”

He points at Y/N once again and she does the supporting vocals, gradually beginning to gain more confidence. “Non-stop!”

“I intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt, with my assistant counsel—”

Harry doesn’t even have to cue Y/N this time around; she picks up her half immediately, falling into line with him flawlessly as if they’ve done this a million times before. “Co-counsel. Hamilton, sit down. Our client Levi Weeks is innocent, call your first witness.”

Harry quickly rounds the corner of the kitchen island, giving her body a grand spin as he draws closer, coming to stand right before her. She gives him a fake exasperated look to match the attitude her character depicts, shaking her head in disapproval. “That's all you had to say.”

“Okay…” The creature yanks Y/N forward into his bare chest, leaning down and flirting his lips right over hers tauntingly, eyes half-lidded in amusement. “One more thing—”

“Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room?” The girl rolls her eyes dramatically, shoving past Harry’s shoulder and she finds it humorous how these lines fit so well, almost as if they were actually directed at him, calling him out on the arrogance he always seems to dote. “Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Soon that attitude may be your doom.”

Harry swivels on his heel, following her as she scurries outside the kitchen entrance, running into the living room. 

“Why do you write like you're running out of time?” Y/N grabs onto one of the couch cushions, pretending to scribble over it with a fake pen. “Write day and night, like you're running out of time? Everyday you fight, like you're running out of time.”

Harry swipes at her from across the couch, trying to grasp onto the jumper she’s wearing. “Keep on fighting in the meantime.”

Y/N ducks out of the path of his grabbing hand, chucking the pillow forward and it bonks him square in the face. She sticks her tongue out at him as Harry scowls dully, climbing onto his sofa and scuttling towards her on his hand and knees.

She jumps just out of reach, diving across the other end of the furniture. The vampire throws his weight to try and tackle her to the sofa, but she just barely escapes. He ends up toppling over the backrest due to his over-abundant momentum. 

“Non-stop!” Y/N waves her middle up at him triumphantly as he pushes himself up off the ground, giving her a challenging look as he takes off after her once again. 

The pair continue to sing back and forth, with Harry chasing Y/N around the living room and kitchen as he belts out his part of the song, Y/N always somehow managing to slip from his grasp as soon as her turn hits. They’re a mess of giggles, silly faces, and boisterous actions as they reenact the play and neither can recall a time they had ever had more fun. There’s never been an instance when they felt so comfortable with another soul that they are willing to run around half-naked, screaming lyrics at each other in their underwear, not caring who sees or overhears. It just feels so second-nature.

A section of the song comes up where a woman is singing and Harry immediately takes up the part, placing his hand on his bare hip and standing in the most feminine fashion he can possibly muster, fanning at his face. “I am sailing off to London, I am accompanied by someone who always pays.” 

The exaggeration makes Y/N bend over laughing and her distraction allows Harry to nab her. He pulls her into his embrace by her forearms, cackling through the following stanza as she wriggles and squirms to try and get free. “I have found a wealthy husband who will keep me in comfort for all my days.” 

Y/N finally gives up on trying to thrash herself free, going limp against his chest and glimpsing up at him with begrudged annoyance, but a fond smile is unmistakably buckling her cheeks. Harry leans down, singing right in her face just to flaunt his victory, their noses brushing. “He is not a lot of fun, but…”

And then, there’s a shift in the ambiance between them. 

Harry gazes down at her as she giggles up at him from his arms, full of so much genuine warmth and excitement, she could power the entire city if she wanted. Her shoulders are heaving slightly as a result of all the running, there’s still faint traces of black mascara smeared under her waterline and down her cheeks from the previous evening’s exertions, she has some acne scarring littering her cheekbones that look fairly recent, and her hair looks like it could nest a family of at least ten birds. But despite these imperfections, Harry finds himself feeling oddly endeared by it all. These flaws are all things he’s gotten used to and has grown to treasure in Y/N. They make her who she is. They make her witty, and they make her clever. They make her fun, as well as trusting. They make her likeable, and energetic, and kind. They make her a good friend and a generous lover. They make her... her. Harry gets the feeling that if she didn’t have all of these traits— if even one was missing— this little arrangement they have going wouldn’t have flourished the way it did. 

Yeah, maybe he would have slept with her once or twice more just to scratch an itch, but he most likely would have let it fizzle to an end after the fact. Her personality paired with these small details— albeit, not all entirely attractive— that make up her existence play a key role in the dynamic they share. And he wouldn’t trade them for anything else— wouldn't trade Y/N for anyone else. Not anytime soon. 

A warm surge travels through his chest, filling his veins like kerosine, heating him from the heels of his socked feet to the tips of his ice cold fingers. An unorthodox swelling sensation twists inside his ribs, right where his heart used to beat, and he finds himself reciting the next line in a soft voice packed with more emotion than he’s shown or felt in the last two centuries.

“There’s no one who can match you, for turn of phrase…”

Y/N seems oblivious to all of the unsettling experiences he’s undergoing, her amused expression not changing in the slightest. Harry allows the rest of the song lyrics to pass by, the lump in his throat too heavy to fight. Instead, he just keeps staring down at Y/N with brows frowning in confusion, his breathing coming out bated and shaky, and that knot in his chest continuing to tighten until it becomes painful. He gets the sudden urge to kiss her— to feel her lips press to his and feel her give into him the way she always does. The way she has for the last four weeks. He doesn’t want it to be sloppy or desperate or sexual; he wants it to be intimate, soft, and caring. He wants it to be special. Something they share. Something only they share.

Then, that moment passes. That flicker of weakness that had leaked through vanishes and Harry feels like he can breathe properly again.

He breaks their locked eyes, releasing Y/N from his hold and taking a swift step back, coughing awkwardly to try and rid the tickling sensation in the back of his throat. He scratches at the nape of his neck nervously, fiddling with his baby curls and attempting to piece himself back together after that unexpected and unwelcome intrusion of his innermost feelings. Though, he doesn’t know if that spectacle even files under the category of emotions; from what he remembers, they aren’t supposed to tangibly attack you in such a manner. It felt more like a violation— like someone had gone in and started poking and prodding at his subconscious with a metal skewer. 

“Harry…?” Y/N inches closer to him, concern prevalent in her voice and across her features as she stretches her hand out caringly. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to be sick.” 

“I-I’m—” His voice comes out higher than usual and quivering, so he coughs once again to get it under control, taking another step back. He's scared that if she touches him, that horrible burning sensation will come back. “I’m fine. Just...Just forgot the lyrics.” 

“Oh, okay…” The girl doesn’t sound convinced with the answer, but she lets the subject falter anyways, her hand dropping back down beside her thigh. “Just checking.” 

“Yeah, I got that. Uh, thanks. But I’m all good now.” He holds up a clenched first and juts out his pinky, wiggling it for significance. “Promise”

Y/N scoffs gently at his playful deed. “Alright, then.” 

Harry eyes her attentively as she returns to her previous spot in front of the plate of pancakes, retrieving her fork and starting to pick at them like before, as if nothing had happened. As if Harry hadn’t just almost had a cardiac arrest, despite the fact that the organ responsible had crumbled to dust ages ago.

“Are you gonna eat anymore?” Y/N signals down at the stack of pastries before her questioningly. “Because if you don’t get some now, I’ll eat them all myself. Don’t think I won’t. They’re better than the ones I make and—”

The vampire suddenly feels like bile is rising up his throat and his words spew out before he can think to stop them, though he’s not so sure he would. 

“Do you want to stay over the rest of the weekend?”

[jawabear]

Marcus Moreno NSFW Alphabet

Not my GIF

A/N: You know I had to write one for this boy. It would be wrong not too. As with the others, these are just my interpretations of his character and may differ to yours, but please be respectful of others’ views. Hope you enjoy. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: smut

Warnings: fem!hero!reader, mentions of sex, but nothing explicitly described, Pedro Pascal comes with his own warning

Summary: An A-Z of Marcus Moreno’s bedroom antics...

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Marcus is such a kind man. He’ll make sure you’re okay. And he’ll make sure you don’t need anything before pulling you into his arms if you’re in bed. If you’re else were, he’ll still make sure you’re alright, making you look perfect before you get to where ever you’re meant to be.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On you, he finds your neck irresistible. Other than your lips, it’s his favourite thing to kiss. He loves to mark it with bites that show everyone you belong to him. He loves to bury his face into your neck while he fucks you, he loves the way your fingers feel in his hair when he does.

On him, he’s rather fond of his arms and his tights (so am I). Mainly because he likes it when you grip his arms when he fucks you, and he loves when you ride his thighs. It’s one of his favourite things, and you always seem to enjoy yourself when you make yourself come on his thighs.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He loves to come on you. Over your breasts, your stomach...

And he loves to come in your mouth, he loves to see you swallow his come.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Before you two got together, and after his wife died, he would find him self in need of release. And being one of Heroics as well, there were many clips of you online doing awesome super hero things. He loved watching those. He loved watching the way you moved. The way your muscles flexed. The way you beat up the bad guys so effortlessly. And it was so sexy. He’d watch them in the dead of night while getting himself off. But he doesn’t know if he should ever tell you, because it is a little weird.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

I mean, he’s got a kid. Clearly he knows what he’s doing.

He certainly does know what he’s doing. He knows where exactly to touch you to make you feel good before you even know.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

He’s a big fan of the classic missionary because he can see your face and kiss you as well as being able to hold your hands which is a big thing that he likes to do.

He also loves when you are on top. Riding him, facing him or not or riding his thighs. He also loves 69......

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He can be more funny then serious depending on his mood and the circumstances for the sex. He likes to enjoy it and wants to make sure you are enjoying it as well so if he needs to make you laugh he will. But he is mostly serious when it comes to sex.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He’s pretty neat down there. It seems he takes more care of his hair down there than he does on his face or his head.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Marcus is a very romantic person. He wants to make sure you are happy. He wants to make sure you know how much he loves and worships you. So he will do whatever he can to put those points across to you as he makes love to you. This would usually be by kissing you for an extended amount of time or just simply telling you how much he loves and adores you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

As stated before, in the time he was on his own, he would jack off quite a lot at night or in the shower (mostly to the thought of you). But now, less so. He’ll still do it on the odd occasion, say if your out on hero business, but you’re usually there to help him out if he needs it.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He wants to be your hero. So he’s a big fan of role play. He loves when you decided to put yourself “in danger” for him to have to come and rescue you. Or you acting as someone who is evil and he has to stop you...and punish you.

And he has a slight weapons kink. He would never hurt you with the blade but something about seeing you with his katanas and nothing else drives him mad.

And I’m not saying he has a daddy kink, but I wouldn’t put it past him....

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Bedroom. Or the shower. He doesn’t really have a preference between the two. But he’ll go anywhere as long as you are comfortable and happy.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

A lot of things came get him going. The main ones being when you are in your hero uniform or when your fingers with lightly brush over any part of him.

But mostly the uniform. Definitely the uniform. Yours or his....

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

As much as he loves the role play and the weapons, he’d never actually use it to draw blood or cause you any sort of discomfort.

And he wouldn’t want to have sex in a public setting where people could see. He’s not so much against say touching you under the table or what ever, but if it came down to him having to fuck you in front of someone he wouldn’t do it.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Marcus loves to be between your legs. He’ll eat you out at any given moment. He’s all about pleasing you. And he loves the way you squeak, moan and whimper as he eats you. As well as the way you grab at him to hold his head closer to you.

But he’s an absolute sucker for you sucking him off. As mentioned, he loves to watch you swallow his come. And he loves the feeling of your mouth and tongue on him. You can easily turn him into mush the second your tongue touches his dick.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s kind of in the middle. He can be both extremes (favouring slow and sensual) but he falls some where in between. He’s not exactly slow, but he’s not exactly fast. But somehow it’s the perfect balance that gives you the best orgasms of your life.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He’s not too against them. Sometimes that’s what it will have to be, what with his job and Missy being around.

Sometimes it will have to be a quick fuck in the supply cupboard at HQ. Or a quick one in the kitchen before Missy comes down for breakfast.

But he much prefers to take his time with you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He used to risk his life every day fighting the dangers of the world, and that mentality does transfer to the bedroom.

If you want to try something, he’ll do it. Unless it’s super dangerous or really really risky.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He’s not a young as he used to be so he can’t go for that many rounds. In a row that is. If you spaced them out over the days he could got for quite a few. But in a row he’s good for about two.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’s never really needed them so he’s never really owned any. But when you brought your trusty little purple vibrator to the party, he grew embarrassingly fond of it. He loves to watch you use it on yourself and he loves using it on you while he eats you out, making you scream. And he likes it when you use it on him, teasing him with it or taking him all the way.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He not necessarily a tease with actions, more with faces or words. He’ll constantly be whispering dirty things into your ear whenever he gets the chance and he’ll send you sexy looks or winks from across the room. He’s very good at getting you worked up with our having to touch you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

With Missy in the house, it’s very much hush hush. For multiple reasons that are pretty obvious. But when she’s gone, he doesn’t hold back. He lets out every sound he had to hold in. He’s not exactly loud, he just makes a lot of noises. But they’re amazing to listen too.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Marcus does find it difficult to make the first move. Even when he does, when just charges at you or something, he will always backtrack or stop to ask you if you want it. You will always want him and you’ve told him that on many occasions but it doesn’t seem to stick in his head. He’s just too sweet to let the beast inside him run free for once.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He’s pretty decent. He’s longer than he is thick but he’s perfect for you.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

To be fair, it’s not all that high. He has a lot on his plate and sex is usually quite far down the list. He’s so busy all the time that he barely even has time for sex. Which is kind of sad and annoying for both you and him, but most of the time you’re pretty busy as well.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

His mind never stops so he finds it difficult to sleep full stop. But sex always seems to relax him enough to make him feel comfortable in getting some sleep. But he is a very light sleeper. And he won’t fall asleep until he has checked you are okay and he’s given the house a once over to make sure everything was locked and everything was where it should be. He’ll take a quick peek into Missy’s room to make sure she is okay before he comes back to bed and eventually falls asleep with you wrapped in his arms.

28/12/20

Taglist: @linkpk88​

[thenextchapter22]

Mail Order... Kitten Girl

Part 8: Aw Rats

Description: Satan accidentally orders a special type of ‘cat’ online after having a few too many drinks…

Tags: Pet Play, Cat Hybrids, Fluff, Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Tail Fucking

Pairing(s): Reader/Everyone (but Luke)

Link to my AO3: Click Here

In this chapter: Kitten and Barbatos spend time together!

Part One  Part Two  Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Authors Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BARBATOS!! This one is for you :))

+++++ MINORS DNI +++++

It was an early morning on a weekday. You woke up slowly, snuggling into the demon body beside you in bed. Sleeping in Belphie’s room was always your top favorite spots to get a great nights sleep. Surrounded in his bed with all his blankets and pillows he stacked up plus his warm arms around you, that was the best.

You were shaken out of the slumber by Beel shaking his twin’s arm, saying, “Belphie, Kitten, get up and eat.”

Belphie groaned, squeezing your body to him, nuzzling the back of your neck with his heated breath caressing you. “Mmmm... ‘s early, Beel. Later...”  

The temptation to stay was strong, but your stomach gurgled and you decided to get up.  

Wiggling in Belphie’s strong hold until you faced him instead of the wall, he opened one eye just enough to stare at you questionably. “Cuddle me later?” you said through a yawn.  

Your youngest demon Master sighed, but gave you one final squeeze around your waist, lingering just above your bottom with his fingers, and kissed you gently. “Fine... Go on,” he said, and opened his arms to free you.  

Beel helped you climb over him. As soon as you were out of the bed, Belphie went right back to sleep.  

With a smiling sigh, Beel shook his head. “C’mon, Kitten. I’ve made one of your favorites for breakfast so let’s get you dressed.”  

You picked at the thin silk short set you had worn to bed. Sleeping with any of them, you liked to wear little to almost nothing. Firstly, because a lot of them ran hot, and secondly so that you could feel their bodies closer to you. That extra touch made your body feel good.

You sat on Beel’s bed, waiting for him to pick out an outfit for you. Almost all of your Master’s liked to dress you. And because you usually stayed in one of their rooms, sometimes a different demon each night so it was fair—they liked to fight a lot about that—they had clothes ready for the next day.

The redheaded demon chose a soft pair of leggings and a short-sleeved scoop neck shirt, also soft,  probably fleece . You smiled at the plain underwear he helped you slip on.  Asmo , Lucifer, and Satan all liked to give you lace undies and bras, but the others preferred comfort for you. Either way you  didn’t  mind, they were your owners after all and you liked them dressing you up. The fun of it was seeing the  different styles.  

After you were clothed, Beel took your hand and smiled. “Let’s go eat.”

You smiled right back and nodded, “Mmhm! ‘m hungry, Master.”

“Me too. I haven't eaten in minutes.”

Giggling, the both of you left Belphie to the room and went to eat.

Breakfast for you was perfect. Waffles soaked in syrup, piled high with berries and whipped cream. Sausages and eggs, too.  The table was full, aside from Belphie. Your Masters all ate their weird demon foods. The day was looking to be a great one!

Once your belly was full, that was when your morning turned from sweet to just plain sour.

The worst news was given to you, and in anger you lashed out.

Which was why now, you sat dejectedly on the couch, arms crossed and tail swishing across your lap, the tip fuzzed out. You poked at your collar that was almost forced on you, a black leather collar that wasn’t uncomfortable but not your favorite, thick and ugly. A long leash was attached to it, and on the other end was Lucifer holding it. Usually you liked the leash, but not when it was a punishment.

Everyone was in the common room now, even Belphie who had gotten up after hearing the news. They either stood around you or sat on the furniture, but they all were looking at you with small smiles or smirks.

You were  not  amused. If you were an actual cat, your fur would be stuck up like the tip of your tail was.

The bad news that caused this problem... your Masters were leaving for the whole day to a RAD Student Council member only meeting that Lord Diavolo was holding.  

You hated being alone. But because Barbatos was staying behind to make a feast for when they came back, he had volunteered to watch you.  

When Lucifer went on and explained he was going to take you to Lord Diavolo’s castle for the hand  off of  yourself to the demon butler, you obviously did not want to go or for them to go and as such you had clawed at him, and thus the leash.  

You didn’t draw blood, Lucifer was too fast for that, but the reaction was enough to be punished.

Huffing in your seat, you refused to not look angry. They were leaving you... again!

Lucifer sighed, and patted the top of your head a few times. “Bad kitty’s get punished, my dear,” he said matter of fact.

Your nose twitched. “I know...”

“You promise to behave for Barbatos?” Satan asked.

You nodded. “Yes, Master...”

“Don’t look so upset, it will only be for a few hours...”

“Why can’t I just be at home alone?” you asked, glancing at them all with wide eyes.

Asmo cooed. “Last time Simeon took too long, kitty cat, and you were upset with us. We’re just looking after you.”

You pouted.

Beel smiled. “Barbatos is excited to see you. And he said he wants you to taste test some of his bakes today. I’m jealous.” He drooled.

Your ears perked up. “R-really?” You licked your lips. Barbatos was the best baker you knew. His cakes and pies and basically everything he made was yummy.

“Kitten looks happy now!” Mammon said with a grin.

Satan agreed, “She looks like the cat who got the cream.”

Asmo giggled. “She probably will, too, and I mean to say Barbatos’~”

The others groaned or chuckled. You didn’t know what that meant, but you did love cream.

“We’re having a big feast later at Lord Diavolo’s castle, so be sure not to eat too much,” Lucifer said, and then announced it was time to go.

You stood as Lucifer started for the front door, the leash taught. Your Masters all said their respective goodbyes and ‘I love you’s’ and it made you very happy inside. You would miss them so much.  

Maybe it was better to not be alone, so you wouldn’t be so sad and think about them until they came home.

Turning on your heel before the front door, you smiled. “I love you, too, my Masters.” And you meant that, truly.

They all cooed, or grinned, and you waved goodbye.  

It was only for the day, right?

_+_

The walk to Lord Diavolo’s wasn't too long. Barbatos let you inside the main entrance where you waited to be handed off like a true pet.

“Welcome, Lucifer, Kitten. We are going to have a good time together today, hm?” the demon butler smiled at you kindly.

You peeked at him from behind Lucifer and nodded once. Still, something inside of you was a little peeved.

“I trust you will be good?” Lucifer asked you, a stern look in his red eyes.

“Yes, Master, I'll be good,” you said.

Lucifer handed the leash to Barbatos, who took it without a single question. You wondered if Lucifer told him what happened and why you had the leash at all.

“She will be well looked after, Lucifer.”

Lucifer nodded. He gave you a single kiss on your forehead. “Behave, Kitten,” he said, and then he was gone out the door. You watched as he transformed into his demon form and flew off, majestic and sexy. You did love his wings; they were so soft.

“Kitten? Let’s go.” Barbatos smiled at you again, and gestured with his hand for you to go ahead and step further in the Castle.

You frowned, but did, and you found yourself in the kitchen after a little bit of walking.  

The room was a far cry from the House of Lamentation’s kitchen. First it was much larger, higher ceilings, and had several ovens and even more cooking equipment. There were tons of cabinets and a large black table off to the side. The floors were nicer on your shoes, less chance of tripping on wood floors than badly lain cement blocks.

While you glanced around, you felt a tug on your leash and a click, and Barbatos was hanging your leash on a hook on the wall before you knew what happened.

“Wha-?”

“It will be easier for the both of us. I won’t say anything if you won’t?”

You giggled. The collar was still on, but that was fine by you. “Okay!”

“Perfect. Over this way please.” He led you to a counter, and there was a ton of ingredients out. They smelled sweet, salty, bitter. Some of them looked good, others odd colored or shaped, but still had a good aroma. “Today you can help me prepare the meal for their return.”

Your ears fell. “I can’t cook...”

"That's not a problem. You have two hands, and so you can mix. And taste test for me as well.”

Now  that  you could do with great pleasure. “Yes, I want to help!”

He chuckled. “I assumed so. We are only preparing desserts now; I will finish the rest of the meal later so it's fresh. Let’s begin, shall we?”

Baking with Barbatos was fun. You got to eat so many tasty things. He let you lick the spoon with the frosting, and gave you little chocolate chips. Mixing dry ingredients for him was harder than it looked and you got some flour on yourself, but that was why you had the apron on.  

Although, it was strange that he already had the perfect one for you. It certainly was not for one of the demon brothers or Diavolo (right?).

After cooking for a long time, eating and mixing and opening and closing the ovens, setting all the pretty treats under domes on counters or in the fridge, you were totally exhausted. All the hard work and eating had really wore you out.  

You yawned a few times, and rubbed at your eyes.

“Is it time for a cat nap?” he teased.

“Barb, I’m tired.” You yawned again.

He softly laughed. “All right. Come with me, Kitten.” He put the palm of his hand on your lower back to lead you out of the kitchen. You were taken around a few doors and small hallways to a wide window with a bed seat cushion, and it faced a garden full of flowers and wildlife.

“So pretty...” you were in awe.

“I thought you might like the view. Rest for a while and I will wake you up once you’ve gotten the proper sleep.”

You curled up on the warm bedding and purred. The sun was shining in the spot, and you could fit yourself perfectly in a ball. “Thank you~”

Barbatos smiled down at you, and pet your head, his hand lingering on your neck to squeeze once. It gave you the shivers. “You’re very welcome, Kitten. Sweet dreams.”

You fell asleep watching the birds flutter around and chirp.  

When you woke up it was still sunny, but not directly on you. And you watched the garden for a while, and then you saw it.

A rat, scurrying across the field.

You made a sound and bared your teeth at it.

The window had a latch, and you undid it and crawled out to step into the garden. You were quiet, stealthy, your prey was right there. You caught it in your claws and squeezed until it was dead.

This was the perfect present to say thank you!

Barbatos had not come for you yet, so you set the dead rat on the floor of the room, waiting for Barbatos to come fetch you.  

And when he came inside, he froze up, and stared at your gift. “Kitten.”

“Barb~ I got you a gift, it’s right there.” Your tail flickered in happiness, and you grinned a fanged smile at him, proud and excited.

He tensed as he walked around it, but did not pick it up. “Did you touch that thing?” he asked instead.

“Yes, with my claws. I killed it for you!”

“I see...” He held out his arms, and frowned. “Let’s go wash your hands,” he said.

You pouted. “Are you not going to take my present?”

Barbatos’ brows furrowed. “Kitten, I appreciate the gift, however...”

Now you understood, and your eyes watered. “Y-you hate it, don’t you?”

“Not at all, kitty, not at all. I just want to take care of you first.” He grabbed you under your arms and you were taken back to the kitchen, legs wrapped around his waist. You felt like a toddler but the warmth of his body was nice. “You need to clean up before you touch anything else.”

He directed you to stand before the sink and place your hands inside. The water was hot on your hands and you cried out. He apologized, and quickly turned it down, and then poured soap on your hands, helping wash them, getting between your fingers and under your claws.

“Rats carry diseases, and Devildom rats even more. I want you to be more careful.”

You nodded. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

Barbatos gave you a soft smile. “It’s fine. There now, let’s dry them and then we can get back to baking together.”

You dried your hands and frowned down at the tiles. “I just wanted to thank you...”

He cupped your cheek and had you look at him. “I know, but you don’t need to thank me with that,” he said, not unkindly.

Oh, so that’s what he was getting at. Well, your Master’s did not say you couldn’t please Barbatos, and he did take care of you. This was the only other way you knew how to say you were grateful for him feeding you delicious snacks and letting you sleep in the cozy sun spot.

“I can thank you like this,” you said, and knelt down on the floor right in front of him, your face at his crotch.

There was one quick inhaled from the demon butler. His gloved finger lifted your head up for him to stare down at you with his pretty green eyes. There was a slight hue on his cheeks. “You don’t have to thank me at all.”

You licked your lips. “I want to. Please? Can I see your cock and suck it?”

He began thumbing your bottom lip. “If that’s what you want, I wouldn’t say no.” Then he made a concerned face. “Do you want something for your knees?”

You nodded, glad Barbatos was such a kind demon. “Please...” and he somehow had a throw pillow in his hands, and you lifted one knee at a time to get situated. “Thank you.”

“It’s no trouble.”

Quickly you helped him out of his pants, slipping them to the floor. As you did his hand caressed the top of your head, and you felt his dark gaze on you, watching every move you made. As his pants dropped to the floor, he stepped out of them, kicking them away. The mess was so unlike the butler from what you had seen.

Now he was just in his underwear, a silk dark green pair that outlined his cock and balls. You nuzzled his clothed dick. “Smells good, Barby.”  

“Mmm, you like the smell of cock, Kitten?”

You nodded. “Yesss-”  

His hand went to your hair at the back of your head to lightly tug. The pain mixed with his scent urged you on, and you had his boxers pulled down, and he was quicker in stepping out of those. His cock out inches from your mouth, half hard. Before you sucked it, you grabbed it to stroke it to life. You licked the tip once, he gasped. Then you swallowed him down and peeked up at him with a certain look, unmoving. Waiting for him to do something.

He got the idea and smiled. “Do you want me to use your mouth?”  

You hummed, hopeful he understood it meant yes. And he understood because he began using your mouth. Filling it with his slicked head, hitting your tongue and roof of your mouth. Your lips were swelling up, and you suckled and slurped at his cock.

Clawed hands went to his waist, holding him steady as his fingers clutched your hair to do the same. The pain and scent surrounding you had your pussy wetting up, soaking your undies. But this was for him, about Barbatos’ pleasure. And a Kitten could please their Master, or their Master’s friends, and you would do a good job of it, too.

Breathing through your nose, you kept a firm hold on his hips, and your tail helped by wrapping around his thigh once to squeeze. His legs were bare, strong looking. You looked up at him, and met his dark eyes, flecks of black creeping in to those slate green iris’. It was sexy and you moaned.

“Ahh, Kitten,” he moaned. His hand not at your hair went to touch your tail, wrapped around a part of it and stroked like you had done to his dick. “Such a soft tail."

You moaned louder, vibrating around his cock, tonguing the underside with your flattened muscle, flexing. He tasted tangy and filled your mouth perfectly, and a little precum trickled onto your taste buds.

The demon butler tensed and grunted out a warning before he came in your mouth, and only then did you let him go. You held his spent cum in your mouth on your tongue, and showed it to him before swallowing. It was bitter, but you had worse.

“Such a naughty thing,” he commented, and pet your hair from your cheeks.  

He smiled, and in his eyes was something new you hadn’t seen. He put his clothes back to right, and before you could react, he had you in his arms and then deposited you on the long kitchen table. The throw pillow was shoved under your body to lift you up at your lower half, and it helped keep your tail from being squished. But you were confused.

“Barb-”

“Hush now.” He stood at your feet, a demonic grin truly. “I shall return the favor,” he whispered. Barbatos’ appearance shifted, and he was in his demon form, his twin-tipped tails flickering behind him, his bat-like horns gleaming in the kitchen light.

His hands torn down your pants to your ankles, and you let him, him taking off your shoes next to leave you in socks and your top. Then you were spread open, panties glistening, socked feet flat on the table. He had you bend your legs so he could grasp your knees to keep you like that, but your pants hugged at your ankles like restraints.

Those eyes of his were basically neon green they were glowing, and he stared at your clothed core, and you tightened in response. Could he see the flex of your pussy?  

“You got wet from sucking me, hm... How delightful.” His finger went to your waist, tugging under the band, and it snapped apart. He tore your underwear from you and exposed your vagina to the air, the coolness hitting your burning heat, wetness growing.

“Ahh, B-barb-"

His tails were hovering your vagina, twitching, and you leaned your head down to watch. You couldn’t see much past your belly as he lifted you up, but you knew what his intentions were.

You begged for it, “please, inside...”

He did not hesitate. His tail slowly went inside your pussy, thick, slimy, softly scaled. It was bigger than you figured, and you tightened down and wiggled your hips.

He tore his glove off with his teeth, and his bare finger circled your clit, the sparks of pleasure helping the stretch. “It’s okay, you can take it. Be a good kitty.”

You clenched down on him again and he winced for a second, but then his tail slithered deeper and flicked at the tip to hit that spot inside and you saw stars, clutching the table at each end with clawed hands.

“You’re damaging the wood,” he said with a bit of humor, but did nothing to stop you. His finger circled your clit faster and harder, and you were close but still felt like it wasn’t enough.

That was when his second tail spread your cheeks apart to press to your anus, slimy from the wetness leaking from your pussy. You were not ready for that, not now.

You cried, “nnngg, not there, please.” Your own tail swooshed in the air, a nervous twitch, and a warning that you did not like that.

Barbatos kissed your inner thigh, holding your knee wider with one hand as his tail fucked you, sloppy sounds echoing in the room along with your heavy panting. “I know, beautiful thing, I won’t.” He left the tail tip there, slipping over your hole to join the other at your pussy, pressing against its twin. “You can take two, can you not?”

You tensed and sobbed. “P-please,” you desperately wanted to be torn open.

He grinned, sharp teeth, and shoved his second tail in along with the other. You arched your back and tossed your head to the side and sobbed, burning and intense pleasure/pain encompassing you. “Ahhhgg~”

The pace he set was fast and rough, the double tails slipping in and out and scrapping at the best parts of you, no time to adjust. “You’re so sweet, yet so naughty. I want to feel your pussy on my cock someday.”

“Uhh, yes, yes, want that-”

“Hm, I know you do.”

He was so himself like this. Barbatos was commanding and sure in his movements, and it was perfection. His head went between your legs and his mouth found your clit and licked and kissed wet and sloppily. You wished you could watch as he did, but your position only let you see his head bobbing, and his tail motioning in and out between your thighs.

He kept his mouth on your clit, swishing his tongue back and forth. “Purr for me, kitty,” he pulled back to say, and then with insane speed he fucked you with his serpent tails and licked you, like a vibrator toy for your clit.

The heat was reaching your belly in a boiling point now. Your body was hot, tense, and your toes curled, and then with an arched back, your belly tightened up and you were finished. “Cumming, Barb, cummiinnnnggg~” you exclaimed, spurting all over.  

It lasted a few moments, but felt like longer. You kept your eyes shut and felt the excess amount of your own juices dripping out. The sparks went with the beat of your heart as you calmed down, almost like an exposed wire feeling every single thing. Your shirt was sweaty. Your throat sore, from both screaming your pleasure and holding some back. There was a little bit of tears drying on your cheeks.

When you did open your eyes, Barbatos was hovering over your head, smiling that gentle smile, this time it reached his kind eyes. “So pretty for me,” Barbatos murmured, kissing your cheek. “I need to clean you up now.”

You hummed, shutting your eyes as fireworks popped up in your vision. “Mmm, clean up,” you copied.

He chuckled, and lifted you up in his arms, and you whined but allowed it. “Come on kitty, you can have another nap after.”

You sighed. “Love naps.”

“I gathered that. You may be a second Belphegor and we just don’t know it.”

You giggled. “Mmmm.” What a silly thing to say.

_+_

“She looks exhausted,” Lucifer commented. He had a slight smirk in his eyes and on his lips, but not enough for the average person to see.

Barbatos shared a similar look. “Oh yes, we had an eventful evening, didn’t we?” You flushed red, ignoring the question, and he went on, holding out a few containers. “Here. To take home with you. The feast will begin in a few hours, but I know Beel will like to have some extras.” Barbatos handed you the boxes. “Thank you for all your help today, Kitten. Anytime you want to stop by, feel free.” The green of his eyes shone, mischievous.

You held in the whine, because you  did  want to visit again. But the teasing was too much and you were exhausted mentally and physically. You didn’t even want to be standing right then.

You looked at Lucifer and asked, “Master, can we go home now?”

“Yes, we can.” He took the leash from Barbatos and you both left Lord Diavolo’s castle for the House of Lamentation.

And if Lucifer noticed the limp in your walk, he said nothing on it.  

Thankfully you were not in trouble. Your Masters, it seemed, did not care if you shared yourself. But you had to wonder the limitations of that... you’d ask another time.

So, you went home to rest before the feast, but in the end you did not go. You actually stayed behind with Levi who had plans to be online that night (Diavolo played video games, you heard, so he excused the Envy demon).

Snuggled up with him on the beanbag you lazily watched him play, occasionally getting soft pets between battles. It was boring to just watch, but you had enough excitement. This was a perfect way to end a sweet day.

[eunjidrabbles]

YAYYYY your asks are finally open!!! hi hi im the anon may i ask for a hwasa one shot wherein reader is courting hwasa but hwasa doesn't find fem! reader attractive. after one date, hwasa decides that reader isnt really her type which r is bummed about but respects her decision. however, one day hwasa finds r's genuine character and somehow, she falls for r's charms uwu angst to big big fluff please! sorry this is long :3 i really like tropes like this thank youuu!

Just One

(I realized writing hurt/comfort stuff soothes my soul a lot. Probably because I like making it hurt and then I feel bad and try to make it warm and fluffy so no worries. Longer requests help me with plotting out the story.

Edit: Sorry this took longer than expected, I just started my first day of work again and guess who is now a barista? Also Wheein’s solo album just dropped today so go give it a listen ya’ll)

Word count: About 2.4k

-

Ahn Hye Jin is a goddess. Everyone who has seen her either loves her, or hate her because they want to be her. With beauty, fame and charisma that goes off the charts, who could blame when you were to be drawn in like a moth to the light? Of course given the opportunity, you chose to chase after her disregarding the fact there were probably many others like you. It was a chance given, and it would be foolish not to grab at it. Be it getting your manager to buy her favorite drinks so you can drop it off for her whenever she was at the company practicing, leaving little notes with a container of food for her to heat up when she stays back for more practicing on her own or even occasionally popping by the studio when you had some free time off your schedules, you did you best to let your presence be known to her. Management didn't know of your crush, brushing it off as admiration for your senior whose group literally built up the company, and you'd prefer for it to stay that way lest you get kicked out barely a year into debuting. Hyejin however, knew of your intentions. You've made it clear to her when you gathered up the courage to manage to stammer out a "I like you." Before you could hear whoops from Wheein and feel the stares coming from the other two older members directed at you.

Over time, you've managed to also worm your way into the rest's hearts as they realized how pure your intentions were, and how far you'd go to try take care of their strong-headed maknae. Seeing as to how Hyejin has never properly rejected you, they slowly started putting in words for you whenever they spot your gifts for her, planting what they'd hope to be the seeds that will help make their youngest happier. It started from "Look at how thoughtful she is!" To “Hey look, guess who dropped by again today~?” Each time, she would only smile and wave away at her member’s teasing as she accept her gifts with a smile.

The small interactions with Hyejin and the rest of her members were great as you slowly got to know them more, just as friends. Sharing jokes and they would sometimes even invite you up for a meal together. It wasn’t until a few weeks later of skirting around your very obvious infatuation with Hyejin did you actually put up your mind to do something. Nodding to yourself, you gathered up the courage and knocked on the door. Cheers were heard from inside and as routine, Hyejin came to the door to open it for you. Passing over her drink with a smile, she stood waiting accepted it with a small chuckle and thanks. Right before she turned away, you called out to her. Looking back at you questioningly, you took a few deep breath to try settle your pounding heart. “One date. Just give me one date. I’ll show you that I’m serious.” You could see her eyes widen in surprise and slowly cover her mouth with her hand. You shift nervously, not daring to break the eye contact. She was the one who looked away first and her gaze fell to the ground, seemingly deep in thought. Noticing the longer than usual interaction, the rest of the members curiously peeked over one another to observe the situation. Putting the pieces together, Wheein shared glances with the older members and back to her best friend and voiced out her thoughts. “Why don’t you give it a shot?” Slowly looking over to her, Hyejin studied her expression, followed by the encouraging looks Moonbyul and Yongsun was giving before going back to her own thoughts for a bit longer. All the while you stood, head slowly lowering, feeling your throat and chest slowly coiling and tightening on themselves while you prepare yourself for the rejection incoming. “So what do you have in mind?” Snapping your head up, you find her staring right at you. You could almost hear your own heartbeat as you let out a breath you didn’t even notice you were holding. Glancing past her, you see the enthusiastic nodding and thumbs up given to you by the rest of her members and you pulled out your phone. “I’ll text you the details?”

As far as records go, the company only saw this meet up as a nice meal between a member of their top girl group and their solo artist. You’ve managed to book a small table at a café that you were introduced by a few friends. It was a cozy little place near an alleyway, just a little out of the way of where the crowd would usually go. Settling down in the corner, you were both handed a small menu. Skimming over, you decided to place an order of a cup of coffee and a macaron for a sweet treat. Hyejin took a little longer to look through the menu but also ended up with just a cup of coffee. There was an awkward tension in the air as you constantly try to find topics to speak about to engage the woman sitting opposite of you when all you could get in reply was a few words in reply. With a smile, you could only nod and let the silence blanket the both of you as your drinks and snack came. Every time you looked up from sipping your drink, you could see her silently in her own thoughts and decided not to bother her lest she finds you annoying. It was when you were on the last few sips of your drinks did Hyejin finally speak up.

“I don’t want to be harsh but I don’t think we’d go well together.”

The words echoed in your head as they processed into what she was trying to say. You swallowed down the harsh reality that hit you right in your chest and nodded with a small understanding smile. “Thank you for at least giving me a chance, and of course, being honest with me.” Nodding back, Hyejin went back to sipping her drink as the silence once again settled between the both of you, this time for you to quietly nurse your heart. Setting down the empty cups, the both of your stood as you pulled out your phone and texted your manager to pick the both of you up. While waiting outside the café, Hyejin couldn’t bring herself to look at you. A part of her felt that she had led you on, despite it just being that she couldn’t understand of her own feelings. To make everything simpler for everyone, the best choice would be to reject and ignore it. A hand coming towards her in the corner of her eye surprised her, and with that she finally look at you again. “Friends?” Raising your eyebrow, you silently prayed that whatever happened wouldn’t ruin whatever relationship you had between her and her members. “Friends.” Raising her hand to shake yours, a smile bloomed across her face in relief that you held no anger towards her.

You understood that it will definitely take time to get over the fact that you had a crush on Hyejin, so you chose not to avoid it. Instead, you faced the rejection straight on, and went up to Mamamoo’s studio even more often to interact more with everyone whenever you had the time. Every now and again, you’d also have a member or two pop up in your studio to join in the chaos, much so adding up to your manager’s headache of trying to keep your appearance as an idol intact, knowing well fully that the random moments you shared with the group would most likely air out as update episodes in your mini vlog series. It took a while to realize that by taking a step back from pursuing Hyejin, that you got so much more closer to her. The awkwardness melted away and what was left was a healthy friendship.

It also took a while for Hyejin to realized how much more she had been looking to spend time with you. Or that the increasing number of comments in your vlog series were commenting on how much and fondly she looked at you. It became almost a daily thing to exchange greetings from dawn and annoy one another through text till dusk fell. It got to the point where whenever her phone’s notification rang, does she perk up and rush to it and if it was not a reply from you, she would falter and according to Wheein, “Look like a kicked puppy.” If you had a schedule when she was free, she sometimes tag along with an excuse to keep you company but if you could see her behind all the staff, you’d notice her intense gaze as she studies you. The way you moved, the way you laughed, and even to the way your chest rise and fall as you breathed. Part of her knew what was happening, but she refused to act upon it. It wasn’t fair that you were the one who risked your career to chase her only for her to reject you, and now suddenly changing her mind. You on the other hand didn’t seem to notice all the extra attention you were getting from her and it annoyed Hyejin to a certain extend. She wanted the smiles you gave to everyone directed to only her. She wanted the jokes you shared and the laughter you gave to just be shared between you two.

It drove her crazy, the more she explored her feelings for you. It made her feel things that scared her. Scenarios would appear in her head as she watches you interact with others. Your words would race through her mind as she goes about her day. Images and memories of your gifts and notes pulled on her heartstrings. Maybe. Hyejin silently thinks to herself. Just maybe, I might be crazy. Chuckling to herself as she stopped in front of a set of doors, she sighed. That’s still better than letting someone else hold you, right? Looking up at the sign that stated the opening hours, she pulled out her phone to do a quick check of the time and pushed open to step through the set of doors.

The bass vibrated throughout the entire room as music boomed from the speakers in the practice room. Your eyes were trained upon your form as you connected each movement of your body to flow with the beat of the music. Seeing how focused you were on perfecting the dance routine, your manager could only sigh in failed attempt of trying to make you promise to not overwork yourself when your comeback was right around the corner before leaving for the night. At some point through the evening, you had shed your hoodie, leaving you in a cooling sports bra and sweat pants. Despite the lesser layers, you were drenched in sweat, and your hair had fallen from their ponytail, leaving them sticking uncomfortably to your face and body. Your body cried out in exhaustion as you slowed to a halt along with the music and panted to catch your breath. Slowly pushing yourself upright again, you groaned, body resisting the idea of one last run through of the routine. Right as you were about to hit the play button on your phone again, the soundproofed door of your studio swung open.

Your squeak echoed the room and your eyes darted up and widened in surprise to meet hers through the mirror’s reflection. It took a second for your body and brain to relax when you realized that the intruder meant no harm when you noticed both her hands were occupied. Slowly turning and walking over to the back of the studio where she had moved from the door, you look at Hyejin questioningly before your gaze dropped to the contents in her hands. Instead of putting it down onto the table, she waited for you to walk over to her to pass you the warm cup of coffee and a paper bag. Carefully hold the cup in one hand, you opened the bag to see a lone macaron sitting inside. A wide smile bloomed on your face when your body understood that the sweet treat was a form of energy for you to function and you eagerly pushed it up the bag to take the first bite. You then remembered the very person that delivered it to you and with your mouth full, you could only smile even wider to her as you closed your eyes in bliss as the sugary snack awoke your senses again.

“One date.”

Your eyes snap open as your jaw stopped its movement.

“One date. Just give me one date. I’ll show you I’m worth your time.”

Your smile slowly dropped as you processed what you just heard. Looking back down at the bag and the cup of drink, you recognized the name imprinted on its sides. It was from the very café you two went to on your first and last date. Forcing yourself to look busy by continuing to slowly chewing the one bite in your mouth, you subtly turned your head towards the mirror to look at the woman, not daring to risk eye contact by looking directly at her. Even from the mirror, you could see her intense gaze, as she fidgeted her hands behind her, anxiously waiting for your answer. 

“So? What do you say?”

Swallowing the now mushy mess in your mouth, you slowly looked right back at her. Lifting the drink to your lips and taking a small sip, you looked for traces of this encounter merely being a bad joke of the rejection you faced at her hand a few months ago. When you could find none, you slowly lowered the drink and sighed. Even at such mundane actions, you could see her tense up in anticipation.

You chuckle suddenly, breaking the silence and causing Hyejin to flinch. That in return made you chuckle even harder when her look of confusion and surprise slowly melt away as your laughter went on. Finally taking a breath to stop, you smiled and answered her.

“I was hoping it will be more than just one.”

[fanfic-me-up]

One For The Books || Midoriya Izuku

Synopsis: Kissing you in the middle of a bookstore was worth being late to his own party.

Pairing: Midoriya Izuku x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: None

A/N: This is for @bnhabookclub Celebrating Deku event and bingo event! Prompt: “Kiss me, quick. I promise I’ll explain later.” Bingo Slot: Bookshop AU Thank you @hawks-senseis​ @todoscript​ for beta reading! Tagging: @pixxiesdust​

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Izuku stumbled into the bookstore by happenstance. 

The breeze was particularly strong that day, coming in from the east, and Izuku is naturally attracted to the scent of wilted parchment. The voices of the great authors from before entice him to take a peek into the homely shop. The size and location suggests it’s a family owned business, a hidden gem amongst a sea of overly flashy boutiques. It is the definition of grassroots and Izuku loves patronizing these types of down to earth businesses.

Izuku’s been an avid reader his whole life. He believes everybody has a story to tell and every story is worth being read.

The bell jingles upon opening the door and the place, though small in size, reminds Izuku of a never ending abyss filled to the brim with an infinite amount of stories. He can't wait to dig his fingers into the pages of each and every one of them. He already feels a sense of home with the purposefully decorative clutter - wooden knick-knacks and potted plants mixed with soft acoustic music playing in the background gives the place charm. 

He greets the clerk who smiles politely, greeting him by his hero name. Izuku doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to being treated as a hero. The fame and fortune never appealed to him, preferring a simple life where he’s free to be himself without the weight of expectation. He feels bad for thinking this, and hasn’t told anyone because he doesn’t want to appear ungrateful. Please don’t misunderstand, he loves being a hero and saving those in need, but sometimes he needs to get away. 

Izuku peruses the numerous aisles, his finger grazing the spines of books waiting to be opened, when he freezes right smack in the middle of the aisle. You’re tucked in the corner with a book in hand, he can’t make out the title no matter how hard he squints. Izuku feels a bit creepy staring at you from the thin opening of the bookshelf, and you must’ve felt someone staring at you because you look up and meet his eyes causing him to whip his head. A flush creeps along the apples of his cheeks from being caught by you. Despite his embarrassment, Izuku chances a glance back up and he breathes a sigh of relief when your eyes have returned to your book. He doesn’t miss the fond smile gracing your lips now.

And that’s how a bookstore that’s two cities away became Izuku’s home away from home.

He tries to convince himself that he’s only going for the books, but he’s such a terrible liar that he can’t even lie to himself. It sounds ridiculous when he’s been on the train already for an hour, alone, on his birthday. He managed to escape for a few hours, finding time to catch a glimpse of you in between birthday traditions with his mother and hanging out with friends later tonight. 

His heart skips at the thought of seeing you tucked in the same corner, a book in one hand and your usual coffee in the other. You dog-ear the pages instead of using a bookmark, and you gasp when you find a quote worth remembering. You dare not take your eyes off the page, like you’re afraid you’ll never feel the same magic you felt when you first read the passage. Izuku always smiles when he sees you have trouble finding your highlighter, feeling your way around the table even though it’s in the same position you always leave it.

He’s talked to you a couple times, if you could call it talking, it’s more like you ask him a simple yes or no question and Izuku proceeds to blubber like an idiot for the next five minutes; your face adorned with a small smile as you wait for him to string words together that make sense. He appreciates your patience. It’s rare to find that kind of patience anymore.

He also appreciates how you don’t openly acknowledge his hero status. Seems like everyone wants something from him nowadays. It’s hard to make friends outside of the hero industry. A part of him wishes to return to the quiet stability, back when he was just Izuku. Maybe that’s why he finds himself constantly coming back to this bookstore, because this is the one place he feels like nobody's watching him and you’re the one person who makes Izuku feel like he doesn’t need to be anything more than himself.

His stomach drops when he takes in the vacant corner. He hoped to catch you today before his party, perhaps he would’ve finally gathered the courage to actually talk to you. This wasn’t how he pictured today would go, but he figures he traveled all this way so he picks up a couple books anyway (a couple to Izuku means a pile that looks ready to tip over) and plops down in his usual spot across from you. 

He barely gets through the first paragraph when the bell jingles, signaling a new customer, and you rush in breathless. The few people roaming the aisles turn their heads, including Izuku, and you look picturesque standing in front of the wide-open door, your hair swaying in the wind. Your eyes scan the bookstore, stopping at Izuku, and you walk briskly towards him. Wait, no, that can’t be right, but Izuku feels dumb glancing behind his shoulder because he’s sitting against a wall.

Izuku feels the breath rush out of him in one swoop.

“Kiss me, quick. I promise I’ll explain later!” 

Izuku chokes. 

“Huh? I- I’m sor-sorry- di-did you- you just- kiss- uhm, I’m sorry, what?” 

Izuku misheard that, right? There’s no way… Yeah, he had to have misheard that. His mind tricking him into what he wants to hear. Strangers don’t normally ask other strangers to kiss. Unless it was New Year’s, but it’s the middle of July, so that can’t be right.

You bite your lip, and it’s the first sign of hesitancy you show since making your grand entrance.

���It’s stupid, I’m sorry, you’re right, it’s not New Year’s-”

You heard that?

Sweat prickles the back of his neck at being caught so openly. He’s always had a habit of thinking out loud, and it manages to happen at the worst times.

“I’m just gonna go now, oh god, I’m so embarrassed, pretend you never-”

Izuku never gets to listen to the end because he jumps from his seat and pulls you in. You gasp, the same way you do when you come across a melodic phrase on a page, when his lips touch yours. You’re frozen in place, eyes wide, like you didn’t expect the kiss despite being the one to ask. Izuku has only kissed a few girls, enough to count on one hand, but he gives it everything he’s got. 

He traces your bottom lip, asking for permission like the gentleman his mother raised him to be, and he barely holds back a smile when you gain your bearings and shyly open up for him. He can tell from the way you kiss that you don’t normally ask random guys to kiss you in bookstores, and Izuku’s relieved at not being the only one feeling a little awkward about this whole situation.

Izuku explores the inside of your mouth, shyly meeting your tongue, and he feels you wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the small curls at the nape of his neck. Izuku doesn’t know how long the kiss lasts for, but long enough to feel like he might pass out if he doesn’t take a breath. He doesn’t completely pull away though - he makes it halfway, only to take a small gasp of air, before he goes back in to peck you one more time, trying to remember how your lips taste in case this is the first and last time he kisses you. 

What is he saying? Of course this is going to be the last time he kisses you. You’re a stranger- a beautiful stranger- but a stranger no less. He doesn’t even know your name! He probably should’ve asked for your name before he stuck his tongue in your mouth. Maybe he’s not much of a gentleman after all.

You open your eyes slowly, still hazy from the kiss. Your fingers are still entangled in his hair, and Izuku doesn’t want to let go of you, but you’re both coming down from the high of kissing one another. You detangle yourselves, stepping back an appropriate distance. There’s a fair amount of quick glances and awkward silence before you both speak up at the same time.

“I don’t normally-” you say.

“S-sorry if that wasn’t-” Izuku says.

Both of you stop at the same time too, laughing off the awkwardness. Izuku rocks on the balls of his feet, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. You glance around, unable to stay in place, until you set your sights on the towering books in Izuku’s corner. Your eyes sparkle as you bounce over to pick up the current book he’s reading.

“I love The War Within!”

“Y-you do?”

The War Within is one of Izuku’s favorite books. His mother would read it to him all the time as a child. 

“Of course! My childhood is in these pages,” you say as if you can read Izuku’s mind.

You flip through, careful not to lose where Izuku left off even though he’s still on the first page. 

“This story seriously doesn’t get enough love,” you comment after giggling at a passage from the book.

Izuku couldn’t agree more, and the flutter of excitement swirls through him. He finally found someone he can discuss his favorite book with. Although a fantastic book, it’s terribly underrated and anyone he’s mentioned it to looks at him like he has two heads when he gets carried away talking about it, but not you.

“I couldn’t agree more! The struggle between following your head and following your heart is timeless and the author writes it in such a wonderful way, accessible to a younger audience. Everyone comes to that crossroad between choosing to do what is socially expected and going after what you personally want. I can’t believe more people haven’t read this book and-” 

Izuku abruptly shuts up, biting his tongue when he realizes he’s rambling yet again to someone about his favorite book. He’s always been a smart kid, but it wasn’t until later in life when he fully grasped the depth of the message. He’s never related more to the protagonist than right now.

You’re not looking at him strangely like everyone else. Instead, your face is adorned with that same soft smile Izuku saw the first time he laid eyes on you.

“What’s the famous quote at the end again?” You skip to the end, eyes scanning for the passage Izuku already knows by heart. He answers your question in earnest at the same time you find the passage. You speak together for the second time today, words flowing in unison.

“To win a war within one’s self is the greatest victory of all.”

You lock eyes at the end. Izuku feels electric, adrenaline coursing through his veins, the same feeling as when he uses One for All. How did he get so lucky to bump into you that fateful day? The chances of Izuku choosing to get off the train when he did and stepping foot into the bookstore was slim to none, and for you to be here when he did…

What he would give to kiss you one more time.

The conversation dies, both of you too caught up in one another to say a word. All is left is the occasional murmur from other patrons and the soft music playing in the background. Izuku opens his mouth as do you, like you’re riding the same wavelength.

“I never got your-”

“Happy birthday!” You blurt, effectively cutting Izuku off.

He’s taken aback. He didn’t expect you to know today was his birthday. You never showed any sign that you knew of him, let alone take the time to look up his birthday. 

Oh god. What else did you find about him? The internet is scary and there are plenty of not so pleasant articles about him from media outlets looking to cause a stir. 

“Oh- ahem- I, um, heh…” He awkwardly trails off, a simple “thanks” unreachable to Izuku’s poor stuttering heart beating in double time.

He sincerely hopes only good things came up when you searched his name. 

“Thank you,” he says, bowing his head slightly to hide the flush on his face. 

Neither of you have a chance to continue the conversation when Izuku’s phone pings and he receives a text message from Uraraka that he better not be late to his own party again. Izuku glances at the time, eyes widening; he has to leave in the next five minutes if he wants to make the train home.

“I have to go.” 

You glance down like you’re unsure of yourself, until you take a deep breath and face Izuku head on with fierce determination; the same look of a hero about to make a life or death choice.

“I wanted to kiss you.”

Izuku steps back. Not with distaste, but with admiration for your honesty. 

“There’s really nothing else to it. I like you, and you probably get that a lot, and I know it’s crazy to say that when this is the first time we’ve had an actual conversation, but.. I thought I’d take my shot because, well, why not?” 

You chance a glance up at Izuku who’s staring at you in awe. You shuffle under his intense stare, like you don’t know what to make of his silence after your confession.

Izuku will admit that even he didn’t think he’d have the courage to confess his attraction to a complete stranger; yet here you were in the middle of a public bookstore, putting yourself out there, and opening yourself up to the possibility of rejection.

Or opening yourself up to the chance of a lifetime.

Izuku’s terrified of the strong woman in front of him - and not because he feels his masculinity threatened, but because he knows you’ll push him out of his comfort zone in ways he needs most.

“What’s your name?”

Your eyes flash like you didn’t expect that in the least, but you give him your name like he asks. 

“Do you wanna grab coffee sometime, Y/N?”

“Like a date?” 

Izuku nods and your eyes widen before shyly replying, “I’d love to.”

He laughs awkwardly, feeling like he missed a step. Don’t people usually start out as friends, go on a couple dates, and then kiss? This happened out of order, and not the way Izuku ever expected an exchange with you would go, but for some reason it feels right.

Izuku counts it as a win when he saves your number and can finally attach your name. He has one more question before he takes off though.

“What if I didn’t want to kiss you? What would you have done then?”

You bite your lip in thought, looking around at the endless tales waiting to be read, before smiling at Izuku.

“It’d be a great story either way. One for the books.”

Izuku finds the way you giggle at your own puns absolutely adorable.

He bids you goodbye with an awkward handshake turned hug- he went for a handshake while you went for a hug. Izuku makes it to the door, ready to leave, but for some reason he stops. His body takes over, shutting off his mind screaming what a terrible idea this is, before turning back around. This time, he’s the one to walk towards you with purpose, with intent to open himself up like you did. You inspired him to risk it all for a single moment, and even though it may be the worst decision he makes.

There’s a chance it will be the best decision of his life.

Your small gasp is music to Izuku’s ears, a song he wants on repeat for the rest of his life, as he pulls you in once more. The moment your lips touch, Izuku can’t help the small sigh to escape him, because the risk is totally worth any rejection that may follow. You wrap your arms around his neck, like your body was made to fit perfectly in his, and you run your fingers through his curls. The kiss is rushed, but not sloppy, like you can’t get enough of each other because you both have no idea what tomorrow brings. It’s over too soon for Izuku’s liking, but he enjoys how a single kiss was able to leave you breathless. A tinge of heat graces your cheeks and your kiss-bitten lips are proof that Izuku didn’t make this up in his head.

“S-so coffee next week?” Izuku steps back, running a nervous hand through his hair.

You smile with that same sparkle glittering your eyes.

“Sounds great. Happy birthday, Izuku.”

Izuku’s breath catches at the sound of his first name caressing your tongue. He bids you goodbye for good this time before taking his leave. The clerk winks at Izuku who flushes, ducking his head down, but the beginnings of a fond smile grace his own lips. 

Kissing you was definitely worth being late to his own party.

[your-rose-highness]

Tell me what is Love (ch- 10)

Pairing- Baekhyun x OC

Special Appearance- JB of GOT7

“So I was thinking, I could take you on a date soon?”, Jaebeom shyly confessed as the two took a walk by the Han river. 

After the quick celebratory hug with jane, Jaebeom, and hye hee sneaked out of the apartment post-dinner. Hye hee felt young after so long. Being in that moment with him as he tried to cure the awkwardness voicing his random thoughts, seemed like a spring day. As they drove away to the Han river, she rolled down the windows and felt the crisp breeze embrace her face. Jaebeom stole glances at her. Something about her seemed so calming to him, yet she looked so drained all the time. He was sure it was more of an emotional turmoil than physical and thus the smiles rarely reached her eyes. At the present moment, she looked like a child. It made him feel warm. 

“Yes, maybe tomorrow?”, she hinted.

“Surely! I’m more than glad you agreed. Any place you would prefer?”

She turned to him with playful eyes before saying, “surprise me.”

Jaebeom pressed his lips together taken aback by her sudden boldness. Not that he was complaining. This was a new her that he was seeing and it was beautiful.

The riverside was quiet, with barely anyone walking past them. It was one of those times when you feel so comfortable with another as you bare your soul out for them. Lying on the grass, they told stories of their childhood, both listening to each other attentively. They laughed at the hilarious anecdotes while spotting funny shapes within the stars. Hye hee forced her brain to stop wandering to Baekhyun. This was a moment she had craved for years and why was she feeling guilty? As she tried to peel away from his thoughts, she felt Jaebeom’s hand brush against hers softly. They turned to each other in surprise, both inching away. Jaebeom’s ears turned red in embarrassment and for hye hee it was an instinct she had developed over the years. 

Just grab his fucking hand reasoned her brain yet something stopped her. She forced herself to place her hand beside his. Picking up courage, her fingers reached him subtly and the two shyly looked at each other once again. This time, Jaebeom fingers curled into hers. She couldn't explain the rush she felt. The warmth of his palm traveled through her body making her shiver.

“Are you cold?”, Jaebeom worriedly asked.

His voice full of concern made her smile, it was so akin to someone she knew, without realizing her heart was still in the old place, striving to find similarities, though unconsciously. 

“A little bit.”, she replied in a small voice and Jaebeom immediately proceeded to take off his denim jacket. 

He fretted around her, trying to help her put on the jacket without actually having to hold her. The two walked around once again, this time hands clasped tight. Sipping on their hot coffees, they watched the sunrise and the golden gleam strengthened their hopes. Hye hee watched him soak in the sun. it was almost as if his skin reflected off the golden rays making them his own. He was beautiful. Laying her head on his shoulder, she looked out towards the wonderful spectacle that unfolded before them. 

“I’m sorry I kept you up all night.”, Jaebeom said as he played with hye hee’s fingers.

“Well. it was long due anyway. Let us skip work too!”, she responded filled with sudden excitement.

Jaebeom smiled widely in shock at her. “What? Hahaha. Do I need to submit the files you know? What do you want to do though? Maybe we can get out early to grab lunch and have fun later. What do you say?”

“I’d love that.”, she whispered, snuggling closer to him.

Jaebeom dropped hye hee soon later, hardly being able to part ways. She found the house cold as she stepped in. jane had left behind a note on the refrigerator.

‘Wanted to wait for all the details, but realized I have a test. You're booked for the evening. 

PS- I WANT TO HEAR EVERYTHING!’

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“ARE YOU SERIOUS, BYUN BAEKHYUN?”, Lee Sooman roared at him as he stood in front of him, head hanging in shame. “The company suffered an immense loss of investors when this scandal unfolded and though the people have been most gracious and welcoming about you two, now, this!”

“I’m very sorry, sir.” Baekhyun gulped. He had decided to take this bullet by himself, leaving Taeyeon out. The backlash would be brutal on her and he didn't think she was to blame.

“What about Taeyeon?”, he asked, settling down on his chair, his eyes never leaving Baekhyun.

“We both want the same thing, sir.”

Mr. lee shook his head in disbelief at every word, pondering over how he can handle this incoming tsunami. Baekhyun peeked to look at him and continued, “Sarang will mostly be out of this. We will shield her from the public eye….”

“Sit.”, he suddenly whispered. Baekhyun cautiously trod over to the seat opposite to him.

“I’m sorry, but this isn't something that could be overlooked so easily. There are investors, partners that run this damn company. Marriage was one thing, but now divorce? It won't be simple. There might be a potential danger to both your careers and you better take care of that child.”

“I’m ready to take responsibility.”

Mr. Lee simply gave him a stare the whole time, before sighing deeply.

Baekhyun was walked through all the formalities before leaving the company that day. His freedom was going to cost him this time. As he drove home, his mind wandered over to hye hee. He hadn't heard from her for a while but refrained from involving her in the mess that was in front of him. He will be the center of attraction once again and peered from every crack like an animal. As he drove to his parents to break the news to them, he stopped a while at the tiny park of his old neighborhood. The place he had first kissed Hyehee and ironically also where he lost her. Sitting in his car by the empty park, he replayed the simpler times as his eyes closed for a minute.

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hye hee was furious. Her senior had called off her work for being half-assed in front of the whole office and Jaebeom had seen it all. She didn't like how pitifully he had looked at her. Rushing to the coffee room to fix herself and calm down, she found him enter minutes later, closing the door softly behind himself.

“Hey.”

“I’m fine.”

Jaebeom approached her slowly, holding her hand as she stood waiting for the coffee. Their eyes met briefly before she complained, “she never told me what kind of content she was looking for, you know. And now she just yells at me. It wasn’t my fault. Why today of all days? I’m so embarrassed.”

Despite her whining, Jaebeom was smiling ear to ear.

“What’s so funny?”, she shot at him, pissed.

He laughed at her annoyed pouty face and ruffled her hair, “ because you look adorable right now.”

“Waah. are you flirting with me right now?”

Raising her hand to his lips, he softly murmured against her palm, “if I haven’t even begun.”, proceeding to kiss it.

Hyehee’s legs swayed as his voice intoxicated her, forcing Jaebeom to hold her closer. The air thickened between them, their lips only inches apart. She scurried back on her feet, freeing herself from his embrace. Jaebeom's ears turned red and stuttered to find words. 

"Yah, why were you…"

She retorted without letting him finish, "I wasn't falling, okay? There were people outside." Jaebeom turned around to see if anyone could see them, and the realisation hit her- the door is opaque. Mentally cursing her lack of ability to make believable excuses, she met his playful eyes this time. His lips pressed into a suppressed smile he mouthed 'dumbo' at her. Hye hee slapped his arm in desperation and left the room. 

"Take the coffee, Hye hee!", He teased.

"I want tea."

He laughed loudly at her tiny voice. 

The rest of the day, the two kept at it. Jaebeom's change of demeanor came as a surprise. He usually was very reposed and a man of very few words. He was opening up to her and didn't wish to hold himself back.  Hyehee cheeks never went pale for the day. Even at his glance, she’d blush to the point where her co-worker asked if something was wrong. Nobody had yet guessed that they were dating each other. 

“Cold noodles and fried chicken, please.”, hye hee placed her order at the restaurant during lunch, beaming at the waiter.

“Are you sure you can eat it all? The portion sizes in here are a little bigger than usual.”, Jaebeom wondered.

“Oh don't worry, I can eat a lot for lunch, but dinner, that’s the tricky one for me.”

Halfway through lunch, Jaebeom’s phone beeped, and whatever it was, it made his eyebrows scrunch.

“What?”, Hyehee asked with cheeks full of noodles.

He snorted at her and pushed his cellphone towards her.

“He wants the new parts done. I’ll have to stop by my place to get the rest of the clips. I was going to get the hard drive tomorrow, but looks like this particular project has the boss on edge for some reason.”

“Okay, I’ll finish fast and we can go.”

“Yah. eat slowly.”, he scolded, “you’re gonna get indigestion. Also, could you chew through the whole thing? There’s no hurry. I’ll quickly drop you at the office and drive back.”

hye hee wanted to answer, but she chewed her last mouthful carefully before drinking the soup, “Why do you have to drop me? I can come with you. There’s no reason for you to make such long trips for one file.” 

Scrunching his face, puzzled, he stammered “Yo-you’re okay with coming over to my place?”

Hyehee nodded quickly, confused why Jaebeom would ask that. He always comes over to her place, it’s only fair.

“Okay”, his face went blank in surprise.

Throughout the drive, he didn't say a word and had avoided looking at hye hee.

What is he so worried about? Did he have his underwear sprawled throughout the apartment and was now thinking of how to clean up? Or, was he a dirty guy? Maybe his place stinks? What do men have to worry about so much?- were the thoughts running through her head.

She had only been to one man’s apartment all these years and it was Baekhyun. Of course, she didn't know if he kept his pass traits, but that guy was always a mess. When the two took apartments next to each other after they came to Seoul, she would organize his things whenever she came over. After complaining about how dirty his apartment was, he proposed to only meet up at her place. He did bother to clean up if she was coming over and it was cute. He’d whine about how hard vacuuming was and would curse scientists to not have made another invention to block dust entirely. 

The memory made her smile. Strolling through her memory lane, she had forgotten where and with whom she was. 

Jaebeom on the other hand had other things in mind.

The apartment was what modern decor would call, minimalist. There were a few plants by the window and only that added some color. Apart from that, he had a wall full of polaroids, mostly of random objects, animals, his friends, and family. Hyehhe carefully scanned them to find an old picture of Jaebeom, in his school uniform, and a cat. His facial features hadn't changed and the smile had remained. Jaebeom cleaned on his way to his study, diving into the cave of hard drives, finding the one he wanted only minutes later. On seeing her walking over to the window, he stood still, observing her. She booped her nose to the monstera plant that his friends had gifted him, touching it softly with her fingers. A feeling of delight washed over him seeing her there. He wanted to hold her close to him and take care of her. 

hye hee then turned to look at him, beaming. 

“This dingy apartment looks nicer with you in it.”, he exclaimed.

“Well I am quite a ray of sunshine.”, she cheekily responded.

Moving to close distance, she wrapped her hands around him, laying her head on his chest. Jaebeom pulled her close to himself, kissing her forehead, “I’m afraid I’m falling in love with you.”

Laced in each other’s embrace, she looked at him with the most alluring way, “sweep me off my feet.”

Jaebeom slowly approached her lips, brushing it against his, looking for signs of approval. As he hesitated, hye hee stands on her toes to kiss him this time, making Jaebeom hold her closer to him. Stopping suddenly, Jaebeom pulled away from the breathless hye hee.

“Are you sure, you want to do this, I mean…”

“Oh, shut up.”, hye hee cried out, cutting him midway as she kissed him again.

She could feel Jaebeom’s lips curve into a smile against hers. The hard drive lay forgotten as the time stood still for them in each other’s embrace.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You brought a lawyer?”, Baekhyun whispered through his teeth.

“Well, you should too.”

“Why do we need a lawyer?”, he said, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Well, the assets, parenting rights…”, she made him count.

“What do you mean parenting rights? Sarang is my daughter too.”, he snarled.

“Just come out. We can't make Mr. Mae waiting. It’s rude.”, she said, slamming the door behind her.

Baekhyun closed his eyes in defeat and followed her, leaving a huge sigh. Mr.Mae was a well-known lawyer and had already seated himself on the table, and had laid a bunch of papers in front of him.

“Ah, yes. Please. Lets’s begin, I have another appointment with a client in the next 3 hours.”, Mr. Mae chided at Baekhyun.

“Then you can go ahead. We won't be needing you.”

“Baekhyun!”, Taeyeon whispered under her breath, while Mr. Mae only laughed soullessly.

Baekhyun sat with a sour expression the entire time as Mr. Mae listed everything that needed to be done. Celebrities couldn't just get a divorce as they wish and entailed a bunch of ways to be free from the public eye.

“....but Mr. Byun will be allowed to visit…”, he continued.

“Excuse me, allowed?”, Baekhyun roared, making Mr. Mae look up from his papers through the top of his glasses.

“Yes, Taeyeon asked for almost full parenting rights.”, he confessed.

“I just don't think you’ll be able to take care of our daughter with everything going on and also with you leaving home unannounced to meet girls.”, she retorted, her face devoid of expression.

“I’m sorry, Mr.Mae, but Taeyeon and I need to talk about this bit of the agreement before proceeding. I have never been irresponsible towards Sarang. You’re making this personal and I won't have it.”, he thundered before storming out of the house. As the cold breeze slapped his face, his face stung with warm tears that escaped. Letting out an ear wrenching scream of despair, he broke down in unstoppable tears, praying that the hurt would stop.

[pepperidgefarmremembers]

The main theme of the story is based on some LOK comic canon, fyi! Kataang Week prompt, enjoy.

PDA (Public Displays of Affection)

“Aang, not so high! You’re going to give me a heart attack,” Katara yelled with panic written all over her face. Her husband chuckled in a deep tone while catching their 9 year-old son quietly into his arms from the 10 feet drop. “Katara, I would never drop anyone, especially not Tenzin! Besides, you have to let go of all fear to be a bender,” he said with a crooked smile, “and he definitely seems to like it.” She rolled her eyes, cursing herself for her husband being right, even though it scared her to death. Tenzin said “Again!” and raised his arms up while in his father’s arms, ready for another chance at floating high in the sky. “What’s that, Tenzin? Again? That’s what I thought! Well, if you insist” he said with a wink towards his wife. “Fine, but I need to focus on something else or I’m going to a nervous wreck.”

Just as Katara began to walk towards the front of their home on Air Temple Island, she abruptly stopped and hid behind the corner of the house quickly. Peeking her head out while making sure she remained hidden, Katara’s eyes widened at the sight happening on the public sidewalk. Her 12 year-old daughter, Kya, was kissing her best friend, Changming, for all to see. She’s just a kid, she’s too young for this, she thought as anger rose up her face. Not waiting for this to go further than it could, Katara jumped in front of the house close to her daughter and her friend. “Just what do you think you’re doing!?” Katara yelled so loud strangers stopped on the sidewalk. Behind the house, Aang realized this voice immediately. “Come on, Tenzin, let’s make sure Mommy is okay!” The two airbenders raced quickly to where a scene was developing in front of his house. His eyes quickly flashed between Katara’s frown and bright, red blushes upon her and her friend’s faces. Realizing his wife was not in danger, but more likely she found his daughter and her friend in a precarious situation, sighed in relief. His relief turned to embarrassment when he looked around and saw the strangers on the street staring at the Avatar’s family drama.

Before Aang could say anything, Katara overpowered her husband, “I can’t believe you’re doing this! In the middle of the street! You know who your father is, this is completely unacceptable! You are too young, to boot!” “Katara, sweetie, I think we should take some time to calm d-” Aang was then cut off abruptly by his wife. “I AM COMPLETELY CALM!” “Okay, okay, yes...you are calm. How about we talk this inside where we don’t embarrass Kya and her friend anymore,” he suggested in a quiet tone. Tenzin, not being able to hold back anymore, burst out in a raucous laughter, “Oh maaan, you’re in trouble! I can’t wait to send a letter to Bumi about this!” Katara shot her son an angry glare which squelched his teasing and laughing immediately. The waterbender took a deep breath and looked at Kya, “Say goodbye to Changming and then meet us in the house.” After Kya solemnly said her goodbyes to her friend, she walked as slow as possible into their house. The tension held thick in the air as the family quietly sat in the living room. 

Katara, Aang, and Tenzin all sat close together as Kya chose to sit across the living in a chair to keep as much distance as possible. After the longest pause in Kya’s perception, her mom spoke in an annoyed tone, “What is going on? You know you have to be smarter than that. People talk all the time about us. It’s not a good idea to publicly display affection like that.” Kya’s eyes narrowed and she began to feel hot all over, “Are you kidding? Is this about me kissing or WHO I was kissing?” Her mom shot straight up, taken aback by the blunt question. “Kya,” her mom said softly, “this is about kissing in public and about who we are. I don’t care that you have those feelings, they’re normal. I think you should just think about it next time.” Kya felt a pang of guilt about the accusation she lobbied towards her mom, but still didn’t buy it as a whole truth. “Are you sure you’re not afraid this will get back to the Water Tribe? Everyone knows they’re not the most progressive people,” she asked. Aang swallowed hard and looked towards his wife, a slight worry about her answer as sexuality was something they had never discussed before. Katara’s anger subsided and changed to sadness. 

She got up and walked over to her daughter, placing an arm on her shoulder. “While that may be true that the Water Tribe can be pretty conservative and prefer people, especially people who feel like you to...be discreet, I have never agreed with that. I want you to be Kya. You love who you love, and I love you no matter what,” Katara said softly. At that exact moment, Aang’s nervous face became an expression of love. Tears formed in his eyes at the thought that he doubted his beautiful, caring wife. He loved her and loved that even though she was born in the Water Tribe, she was an Air Nomad in spirit.

Kya flashed her eyes to her dad, who was quiet and appeared deep in thought. “And what about you, Dad? You haven’t said anything,” she locked her intense stare at her dad. Aang looked towards his lovely waterbender girls and felt his heart swell. Making eye contact with Kya, he spoke softly, “Sweetie, everything your mom said is exactly how I feel. Air Nomads are raised in the belief that you should be free to love who you want. We had man and woman couples, but also same sex couples. I want you to be you. I want you to remember that always.” Kya’s frown turned in a big smile as she asked, “That’s great, but why the freak out about my age? Dad, I will never forget Uncle Sokka talking about you giving him the ‘oogies’ from kissing mom all the time at my age.” Tenzin blurted out in a spot-on impression of his Uncle Sokka, “Oogies! Gross!” The family laughed and the tension dissipated in the room. Katara and Aang exchanged a quick look between them, both wanted to leave this conversation as soon as possible. Katara calmly answered, “Hmmm, I guess you’re right,” she sighed “I think it was more that I still see you as my baby girl. Plus it was in public. You still need to be careful. I don’t want people gossiping about you. When I first started dating your father, I got nasty looks and heard rumours about me for quite a long time. It hurts. This is for your peace as well as ours.”

 Kya nodded with a slight smile, “I get it, Mom, I’ll try to be more careful next time. Can I please go see Changming? I know she probably feels like she can’t ever show her face here again.” Her parents smiled as Aang walked over to kneel next to his daughter. “She can come over anytime. Please let her know that.” “I will, Dad. Thanks,” Kya said calmly as she got up to go find her friend. Katara and Aang stood in a quiet embrace, both of them pondering the events of the afternoon. “I can’t believe I didn’t think that she was your age when you started to like me. Why does it feel so different?” she asked her husband. Resting his head on his wife’s shoulder, he said, “Probably because you still see her as your baby. I see her like that, too. We know how having crushes can lead to hurt, Bumi’s gone through his fair share. But he wasn’t this young, I think we just weren’t ready.” Katara sighed, “I’m usually right about most things, but you and Kya proved me wrong twice in one day. You really are so similar.  I’ll have to get used to that, too.”

[kindofcashton]

𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕  •  chapter 2  (Calum Hood AU)

THE REST OF dinner was much more enjoyable once Calum left.  Luke, Michael, and Ashton had no problem making me feel at home, and soon I was laughing and free from the stress of the day.  

From what I'd gathered, Luke and Michael about a year younger than Ashton.  They'd all finished high school and decided against university, much to their parents' pleasure.  Ashton however had landed a pretty lucrative gig at an advertising firm, even without a degree, and he said that it was the kind of job good enough to support him as long as he needed.  Luke and Michael had odd jobs here and there, preferring the care-free bachelor life to a scheduled, overworked routine.  I envied their easy-going attitudes; if only I could afford to live as freely as they did.

"We're not total bums though," Luke defended himself, blue eyes smiling.  The five us were sipping beers around the table, lights dimmed since it was so late.  "Mike is wicked good with video games and is helping this guy with his startup.  And I work down at the music shop, but the manager says he's gonna try to hook me up with an internship at a record label."

Michael snorted.  "I can not imagine you fetching people coffee.  And they'd probably force you take out that lovely lip ring."

Luke rolled his eyes and took a swig of his beer.  "You work for a guy with a purple tiger tattoo, of course you can keep your eyebrow piercing."

Ashton waved his hand dramatically, other arm slung over Hannah's shoulder.  She'd moved her chair so close to his she was practically on his lap.  

"Yeah yeah, you're little startup and you're little internship are cute, but I am working on the next campaign for Fido Feed."

Everyone burst out laughing, and I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.  "What's that?"

Hannah slid her hand down Ashton's cheek lovingly, and said, "It's a dog food brand, and he is single-handedly pioneering their success."  Ashton grinned and gave her a kiss.

"Hey, Ash, what happened to the wheat crackers ad?  I thought you were killing it with the cracker game."  Michael bat his lashes innocently.

Ashton flipped him off and I took a sip of my beer, happy and buzzed.  This was the most fun I'd had in a long time, and only hoped it would be like this every day.  Leaving university had been a difficult but inevitable decision, and I'd feared I wouldn't be happy for a long time.  Anxieties still plagued the back of my mind, but right now I found it easier than ever to ignore them.

"Alright, I don't know about you morons but I'm pretty tired."  Michael stood up from the table and motioned to me.  "How about I show you you're suite now, madam?"

I smiled and nodded, as Luke reached over to throw away my empty beer for me.  His blue eyes were so warm and kind, and I think I was most grateful for his calming presence.  

Michael led me up the stairs into a darkened hallway, and I noted four doors upstairs.  One was partially open, revealing the bathroom.  One at the end of the hall was shut tight, with quiet music reverberating softly from it.  I guessed this was Calum's room, and as Michael led to me to his my stomach sank.  I'd be right next to Calum, bumping into him as we went downstairs or tried to get to the bathroom.  

Great, more opportunities for him to hate me.

The room was fairly small, but not cramped.  The bed was big with dark blue sheets, and the gray walls were plastered with posters of all different types.  A closet had been cleared out for me, as well as a set of drawers and desk in the corner.  It was definitely a nicer place than I thought I'd be staying in.

"I don't know how to thank you," I admitted, still embarrassed at Michael's charity.

He crossed his arms, goofy smile on his face.  "You'll figure something out.  I like anything with cheese or frosting, so maybe start there?"  I laughed, and he gave me an encouraging thumbs up before turning out of the room.

"Night, Scar!" he called, and I closed the door gently behind him.

My bags were all arranged in one corner, and I reminded myself to thank Luke later.  Blowing out a sigh, I fell onto the bed.  The events of the past couple months truly felt like bricks on my shoulders, and every day was a struggle to get by.  The ache in my heart never seemed to subside, even during happy times like tonight.  Pulling the blankets over my shivering body, I simply hoped for a good night's sleep to be able to tackle tomorrow.

Unfortunately, my prayers were not answered.  I tossed and turned all night long, partly because of the unfamiliar atmosphere and partly because of my never ending anxieties.  Pale dawn light was peeking through the curtains when I finally opened my eyes, and I frowned.  

Quietly getting up, I checked my reflection in the mirror and yawned.  My hair was tousled, the hoodie I wore nearly covering my shorts.  I didn't look too great, but I decided it was better for people to see this me early on, seeing as she'd be around a fair amount.

Padding down the stairs, I didn't notice anyone awake.  Ashton had stayed the night with Hannah, both of them down in the basement on the futon.  Michael was passed out on the living room couch, red hair disheveled.  

Suddenly a sound from the kitchen made nearly jump out of my skin.  I whirled around to see Calum fishing through the cupboards, clad in only sweatpants.  He must have heard my surprised gasp, because he turned to me with a scowl.

"Of course you'd be up this early."  He faced away from me as I entered the kitchen, pausing as I gripped the back of a dining chair.  His back muscles were taut and tan, his bare shoulders rimmed with shadow in the dim light.  His hair was curly and messy, laying just over his eyes.  

"You're up this early," I countered innocently, meaning it more as a joke.  He gave me a distracted glance.

"Never really went to bed, I guess," he grumbled, moving to set up the coffee maker.  His movements were clumsy and confused, and I could tell he had no idea what he was doing.

"Here, let me," I offered softly, striding over.  His brown eyes tracked me as I dumped the ground coffee into machine, once again completely unreadable.  I worked quietly, my movements automatic as I had done this a million times at college in order to survive late nights and early classes.

"Ashton usually does this," he mumbled, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.  I shrugged, flipping the lid down and setting the timer.  I turned so I was leaning against the counter, arms folded.  Calum backed away from me, choosing now to busy himself in the fridge.

I sighed, but was thankfully saved by Michael waking up over on the couch.

"I really hope that racket was coffee being made," he said, voice thick with sleep.

"Shut up, we weren't that loud," Calum snapped, finding the milk and grabbing some frosted cereal.  Soon Luke was awake and joined us in the kitchen, followed shortly by Ashton and Hannah from downstairs.  She looked lazy and happy, glowing almost.  Luke rolled his eyes and shot me a smile; we all knew why the two of them looked so content.

We all sat at the table, Calum included.  He ate his cereal silently, and didn't look up when I poured him a cup of coffee.  I took my mug and sat down, letting the warmth of the coffee seep into my cold hands.

"Cream and sugar?" Luke asked, but I shook my head.

"No, this is fine."

"You take it black?  Damn, badass."  He grinned, and I chuckled.  Calum snorted, and everyone turned to look at him.

He reddened at our stares, and said curtly, "What, she's some brave hero for drinking black coffee?  Please."

Luke didn't take his comment to heart, his expression amused.  "Right, I forgot no one is cool in your eyes.  You enjoy vodka straight out of the bottle."  Calum met his eyes, and for the first time I saw a spark of humor in the brown orbs.  Little flashes of the boys' friendship peeked through sometimes, and I knew despite his rough exterior the guys really loved Calum.

"What are we doing today?" Michael asked, stuffing some toast into his mouth.

"Some of us have serious jobs to go to," Ashton joked, and Hannah giggled as she ran a hand through his curls.  I was jealous of how close they were, wishing I had someone like Ashton to support me.  He would walk through fire for Hannah, and she for him.  Their bond was unlike anything I'd ever seen let alone experienced, and I wondered if I'd ever be lucky enough to discover that feeling.

"Ha-ha," Michael said dryly.  "Reggie doesn't need me today since we're waiting for a streaming service to get back to us, so I'm free."

Luke nodded.  "Same here, the Jared doesn't need me since he's training a new guy.  Looks like we'll all have the day together, eh?"  He shot me a wink, and I smiled.  I'd hoped to be introduced to the area, and what better way to do it then with all of them?  It would give me even more time to get to know the guys.

"Why don't we give Scarlett here a tour?  She's gotta know about all the good spots," Hannah proposed, and was met with sounds of approval.  The only one who didn't reply was Calum, who's eyebrows hung low over his eyes as he ate his breakfast.

"Count me out, I've got some shit to do."  No one questioned his vague answer, and I guessed this was routine around here.  Calum did what he pleased and no one pushed him.  To me it was peculiar, because I'd always been the kind of person to appreciate communication.  Clearly I had a lot to learn if I was going to stick around here.

They parted ways to get ready, but I stayed behind to clean up the dishes.  Small things like this made me feel better about staying at the house.  Calum was last to leave the table, and was watching me with steely eyes as I rinsed out the mugs.  Wordlessly, he stood up and stalked over to the sink, halting.  I stopped what I was doing and glanced up at him, intimidated when I met his gaze.  A beat went by, and then he set his bowl down and promptly left.

I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding.

Soon after I'd changed and put on a bit of makeup, glad that my appearance looked slightly more acceptable.  I was nervous and excited for the day ahead; seeing a new city was always fun, especially one I'd be living in for a while.

Between the guys they had three cars, the nicest belonging to Ashton which he'd bought after his first promotion.  Luke and Michael shared an old station wagon since their jobs were fairly close together, and Calum drove a vintage mustang.  I whistled under my breath, wondering how he afforded such a nice car.  He climbed in and sped off within seconds, and I watched him disappear from view.

The rest of us piled into the station wagon with Michael behind the wheel and Luke riding shotgun.  

"Alright, where to first ladies and gentleman?"

"We gotta show her the music shop," Hannah proposed.

"Oh yeah, it's a real exciting place," Luke joked.  "Dusty, too."  

We drove off, and Michael lowered the windows.  The sky was sunny and blotted with clouds, a small breeze cooling down the warm air.  I rested my arm on the window, and leaned out to look at the trees blurring by.  Michael drove fast but controlled, and I could feel my heart flutter as we flew down the street.

The music shop was actually pretty cool, and Luke even took us to the back to show us where they stored the vintage and expensive stuff.  Guitars, basses, even a dismantled drum kit were hiding in the back room.  Michael and Luke were like little boys around all the stuff, itching to play and show us their chops.

"For a while we wanted to start a band," Luke explained, strumming a simple tune on an acoustic guitar.  "But life got in the way, I guess.  Besides, our parents basically told us we'd amount to nothing, so here we are."

I frowned.  "You shouldn't let someone else tell you what you should do."  He looked up, smiling sadly.

"Yeah, but when that someone pays for your entire life, it's pretty hard to say no."  I nodded, understanding what he meant.  Money was the ultimate decider in life, as I knew all too well.

After the music shop we drove by Michael's start-up, which he claimed was the "most legit garage in the whole city."  It was quite literally a garage attached to some guy's house, but Michael insisted all the geniuses started out small.

As we continued driving around, I briefly thought about Calum and where he could possibly be, and I even kept an eye out for his mustang.  But he was nowhere to be seen, and by lunch the thought of him had completely evaporated from my mind.

Lunch was at Michael's favorite place, which served the best cheese fries I'd ever tasted in my whole life.  As I was eating a thought occurred to me.

"Hey, do you guys know any places hiring?  I've gotta get a job now that I'm not spending all my time on school."  Back at university, I'd thrown all of my energy into schoolwork since my scholarships depended on it.  Now though, a job was a necessity.

They were quiet for a minute, thinking.  Then Hannah said, "Oh, I think the cafe on fourth street is looking for someone.  You have any experience?"

"I worked retail when I was seventeen back home, so I guess not.  But I think I'm a quick learner."

"Wanna swing by right now?"

"Nah, I'll go tomorrow.  Today's been too fun, I want to keep it going."

We finished lunch, and perused around town for an hour or so more, showing me various shops and places I'd want to know about.  When we finally got back home, the driveway was still empty.

"Think you're in the mood for a beat down in Smash, Lukey boy?" Michael goaded, and Luke shoved him good-naturedly.  

"Nobody's getting beat down here except you, my friend."

Hannah and I rolled our eyes, but followed them into the living room nonetheless.  We wasted the afternoon watching them play video games and arguing over it, until Hannah got so sick of it she begged me to do something else with her.

"How about we organize your closet?  I want to go out later, so we've gotta find outfits."

I readily agreed, excited at the prospect of going clubbing.  Hannah had been my partner in crime and always made sure to drag me out of my dorm so I had some fun instead of always staying in and studying.

We began to sift through my bags, and after emptying all of them I realized how little I actually owned.  Hannah didn't comment; she knew the reality of the situation, and gave me an encouraging smile.

"Don't worry, we'll go shopping once you get that job and fill this closet right up."  I knew I wouldn't be wasting my paycheck on party clothes, but I appreciated her idea nonetheless.

"Where are we going tonight?" I asked.

"Where we always go, it's a place Ashton discovered.  It's big, so it never feels cramped.  They have a killer DJ, which is rare in this town."  She pulled out a black skirt and long sleeved black crop top with a lace up back.

I raised my eyebrows in slight surprise.  "Kinda dark, no?"

Hannah rolled her eyes.  "Trust me, black is the way to go.  You look sultry and dark, and with the lights in the club it looks great."

I laughed but accepted the outfit.  "Who am I trying to look sultry for?"

Hannah put her hands on her hips.  "Scarlett, you're hot, you're single, and you've got nothing better to do.  Get yourself some."

I flushed, embarrassed at her confidence in me.  I'd never been the outgoing type of girl to go after guys I liked.  I'd been pursued only a few times, mostly by guys I found repulsive.  I'd had two boyfriends my whole life, one in high school who had no idea how to kiss with tongue, and one in the beginning of college who left me alone at a party where I knew no one and got thrown up on by a drunk guy.  Needless to say, I wasn't crazy about either of them.

Hannah left to get changed herself, and I sighed as I looked at the outfit on the bed.  You might as well let loose, I told myself.  Hannah was right; you have nothing better to do.

I pulled the skirt on and tied up the crop top flipping my hair over my shoulder as I combed through the reddish brown locks with my fingers.  Frowning in the mirror, I swiped some eyeliner on and curled my lashes, sticking out my bottom lip in a pout.  Hannah was right; I looked dark, but sultry was still up in the air.

Realizing I had no idea what shoes to wear, I went downstairs and saw Michael and Luke waiting to leave in the living room.  They both had dark jeans and leather jackets on, looking like hot bikers.  Luke whistled as I walked by, blue eyes tracking me.

"Looking good, Scarlett."

I blushed and thanked him before running into Hannah, who actually had boots in her hand.  They were the black knee high kind, and I snorted at her insistence of keeping to a black theme.

"Wear these, I'm going with heels tonight."  She looked hot herself; her black skirt was leather, and her shirt was off the shoulder and very low cut.  A wave of appreciation for her washed over me; I could always count on Hannah to make me feel good about myself.

We were all ready, and the sky was dark with only a few stars dotting the black canvas.  Michael had ordered a cab, and it was waiting for us as we descended the driveway.

As Hannah and I slid across the back seat, the driver glanced in the rear-view mirror.  

"And how are you ladies doing tonight?" he asked suggestively, making my face redden.

"Seriously, dude?" Luke said, glaring at the guy from the passenger seat.  "Just drive the car and don't say anything, please.  Or do you not want to get paid?"

He met my eyes in the mirror, and I hoped my expression showed my gratitude.  I knew I could rely on Luke to defend me if I needed it, and that was a comforting thought.

"Ashton and Calum are already there," Hannah told us, and I was slightly surprised to hear that Calum was coming.  He'd blown off the day with us, but I guess he couldn't turn down a night out.

When we arrived, I saw how big the club is and my jaw dropped.  I could hear the hammering music from outside, and watched as bodies waded in and out of the door.  Hannah stuck close by my side, with Michael and Luke leading the way.  I smiled nervously at the bouncer, who met my eyes with a blank expression.

Bright lights danced across bodies glowing with sweat, and a crowded dance floor pulsed with the heartbeats of dozens of people.  Girls hung onto guys, guys held onto girls.  Tables were piled high with empty glasses and bottles, and everyone's eyes were dull with a buzz.

I couldn't help but smile, and Hannah grabbed my hand as she led us through the throng of people.  My body itched to join them and dance, the music almost as intoxicating as the alcohol at the bar.

We found our way to the back, where Ashton and Calum were at the bar drinking.  Ashton spotted Hannah and grabbed her for a big kiss, whispering something in her ear that made her giggle and grip his bicep.  Calum emptied his glass and turned to greet Michael and Luke.  His dark eyes raked down my body, face barely illuminated by the roving lights.  He looked good; black jeans and boots, his staple apparently.  But today he had a leather jacket hugging his broad shoulders, and the glint of rings showed on his fingers.  He looked like a shadow ready to melt into the background.

"How was your tour?" he asked, leaning back on his forearms against the tabletop.  I couldn't tell if his question was genuine or mocking, so I decided to answer honestly.

"It was great, I think I'm really gonna like it here."

He didn't react to my response, instead motioned to the bartender to get him another drink.

"You good here?" Hannah yelled over the music.  "I'm gonna go off with Ashton for a bit, but I'll be back to dance with you later, okay?"  I nodded, and the two of them soon dissolved in the crowd.  Michael and Luke recognized someone, and went over to talk.  I was fine with being alone, and took a seat at the bar.

The bartender had a kind smile and bright eyes.  "What can I get you?"

I drummed my fingers on the table, thinking.  I don't know, what's good?"

Someone scoffed next to me, and I glanced over at Calum.  I hadn't realized he was still here, and suddenly regretted my juvenile question.

"Get her a juice box or something, Joe," he said, knocking back his second glass of dark liquid.  He was probably already drunk, but I knew he'd be mean even if he was sober.

Feeling like I had to prove something, I straightened up and said firmly, "I'll take a tequila."

Calum didn't react, much to my disappointment.  I wasn't a crazy drinker, but I could handle my alcohol.  I actually quite liked getting drunk; the buzz made me happy and loopy, and everything was funny when I was drunk.

Joe poured me the drink, and I inhaled deeply before taking a sip.  It burned as it slid down my throat, but I didn't wince.  Calum's empty glass was refilled, and he lifted it in mock cheers.

"Where were you today?" I asked, voice getting slightly drowned out by the music.  Calum scowled at my question.

"Why?"

Shrugging, I replied,  "I don't know, you missed a fun day."

He took a big gulp of his drink.  "Why do you care?"

I blinked, deciding to be candid.  "I don't, I was just trying to be nice."  My answer must have surprised him, because he actually shifted to face me.

"What makes you think I want you to be nice to me?"  His freezing stare sent chills down my spine, and I took another swig for some liquid courage.

"Generally speaking people are supposed to be nice to one another, but I can see how you wouldn't understand that concept."  With that, I finished my drink and flipped my hair behind my shoulders.

"See you later, Calum," I said before striding off onto the dance floor to find Scarlett.  I spotted her dancing with Ashton, and she gave me a big drunken hug before jumping around with delight.

As my hips began to sway and I danced along to the music, I could feel the heat of someone's stare on me, but it only made me dance harder.

[countessmorgasson]

Life of Luxury

Angsty scene featuring my newly created OC! I’m most likely going to use this scene in a longer fic, but I figured I could put a snippet out if anyone’s curious :)

(Disclaimer: Female MC, based on Lucio’s route)

A year after the devil’s defeat, plans for the next masquerade fall into place. Oliviette is temporarily living in the palace as a stand in for Nadia who has a matter to settle in Prakra before the celebration.

I can let my cloak hood down once I reach the palace. What a relief. As I enter through the main hall, I sneak a peek into the first room- the salon. Nobody is there. I think back to the meetings I had here with Nadia, the first countess. I truly hope she’ll be home soon. 

A few days ago, Nadia stopped by the shop- just like she had the first time I ever met her. She informed me that she had to rush back to her homeland to settle a... private matter. That’s all she would say, I remember.  Of course, she wouldn’t leave Vesuvia completely under Lucio’s control. She assured me of that, and despite the uncomfortable feeling I felt when she went on about his lack of responsibility... I had to agree. It was too soon, not just for him, but for Vesuvia.  Before I know it, I’ve been granted access to the palace for the rest of the week while Nadia returns to Prakra. 

Living at the palace does have it’s upside, of course- in many ways, but Vesuvia doesn’t feel quite the same without our honorable countess.

I catch myself wondering if she decided to leave Vesuvia now, that we’ve begun preparations for the masquerade. I couldn’t blame her if she had.  We all know how last year went...

I shake my head, freeing myself of those memories. It was over now. This year will be... a real celebration.

I enter the kitchen, watching one of the cooks stumble against the wall in shock. 

“Oh, um... Oliviette!” He bows, to my embarrassment. “What brings you to the kitchen? Are you hungry? We haven’t finished supper but we can surely fix you something-“

“Please,” I blush. I’m still not used to this treatment. “I only came to hand you this.” I reach into my bag and pull out a small container. I press it into the cook’s hand, watching as he inspects the jar curiously.

“It’s mint. I’d like to make mint chocolate cookies for the masquerade.”

“Absolutely, miss. We can-“

“Actually... I’d like to make them myself. At least one batch.”

The cook’s eyes widen once more.

“We can’t ask you to cook- and on the day of the masquerade, no less! You’re a friend of the palace- and-” I gently wave the thought away, smiling through my discomfort. I’m not used to being treated like... well, like Nadia, I suppose. 

“I look forward to it.”

I exit the kitchen, despite the cook’s confusion. I stroll down the hallway, hearing someone’s boots clack against the tile flooring.

Finally, a familiar face beams at me from across the hall.

“Julian?” I stroll quickly to catch up to him, watching his famous smile break out as I approach. I’m tempted to hug him, but it feels kind of weird to do that in these halls. We’re both here as professionals. I decide to settle for a beaming smile. “Long time no see! How was your study abroad?”

Dr. Julian Devorak was now the official physician for the court. Just recently he embarked on a trip to Romania for a lecture by the world renowned Franklin Deveere, master of the arts and sciences.

“Oliviette.” Julian bows with a dramatic swish of his black cape, and for a minute I forget where I am. I scoff.

“Come on. Don’t be so formal.”

“Formal? Don’t take yourself so seriously, dear. Look at yourself! You’re practically the Countess of Vesuvia! Even if it’s for a week. I heard about you helping the palace out once again.”

I feel my neck and ears begin to burn at the thought of being considered anything like a countess. It almost felt unfair to think it. “Tell me about your trip.” I wave off what he said. Julian starts out with a conflicted expression, but eventually he melts into a polite smile.

“I had an amazing time in Romania! Deveere and I are much alike, I’ll have you know. In fact, we became quite friendly. The things that man has seen... I may never tire of his stories.”

“I’m glad to hear it- and I’m so excited you’ll be here for the masquerade! I never realized how taxing it was to plan it.” I beam, but Julian settles into a forced smile by now.

“I forgot that it was happening this year.”

Not again. He must have seen my face fall.

“I mean, that’s sort of why I’m here,” I admit. 

Was it wrong of me, after everything that happened, to be excited about the masquerade? I never really got to attend one. I don’t think last year counts. If I had been to one before, I wouldn’t remember it. 

“I’m sorry, Oliviette,” Julian winces. “I just can’t help but feel... odd, at the thought of the masquerade being held again.”

I nod glumly, knowing I’m taking his concerns more personally than I should be. 

“I understand... I just... this time, it’ll be done right. It'll all go well. No arcana, no creepy spells... just music, food and the people of Vesuvia. I’m personally overseeing a lot of the main attractions. This is kind of... my project.”

Mine and Lucio’s that is, but I don’t think that’ll make it any better for him.

Julian nods with a smile, but I still feel hurt.

“You’re too much of a thespian to fake a smile like that.”

He apologies again.

“It’s okay. Just... tell me what you’d like to see at the masquerade, I’ll make it happen! Fire dancing? Exotic animals? Oh- we could have the barkeeps from the Rowdy Raven come and-“

“No.” Julian blushes feverishly. “Excuse me. I don’t mean to be brash, but... I would prefer not to.”

I feel my heart sink.

“Does that mean you’re not coming either?”

“Either?”

“I spoke to Asra earlier today. Based on our conversation, I doubt he’ll be stepping foot in the palace anytime soon.”

Julian thinks on what I’ve said for a moment, but the way he looks at me brings back that lead in my stomach. He’s choosing his words carefully- that usually means he’s going to hurt me.

“Oliviette... I don’t think you realize how painful this is for Asra.” He admits. I feel another blush on my cheeks, thinking about my old friend.  I’ve only been in the palace about a week, but my relationship with Asra... took a bit of a turn, a long time ago. 

Last year, in fact. 

“What? That’s not fair,” I huff.

“I...I’m just telling you what I think.”

“If anyone should be hurt, it’s me!” I can’t stop the words from coming out. “Asra was supposed to be my best friend-”

I cut myself off. Julian’s heard this a thousand times. Even so, he bows his head in shame. He doesn’t speak- he’s trying to remain diplomatic.

“You don’t agree with me?”

“Oliviette...” he sighs painfully, turning his mask over in his gloved hands. I didn’t see it before. It was new- sleek and black, with the sharp beak similar to a raven’s. It sends me back to my first time meeting Julian- his long, sharp mask nearly scaring the life out of me that night in the shop. Those memories feel like an entire different lifetime.

I sigh bitterly. My own friends watch their words so carefully around me these days. Don’t they trust me more than that?

“Why did you choose him?” Julian finally sighed.

Hearing that made me feel cold. I guess he wasn’t watching his words as carefully as I thought. 

“Julian...”

“You could have had anyone in Vesuvia. Asra, Portia... hell, even Nadia would have whisked you away to Prakra with her.” Julian’s cheeks began to grow red. “Me.” He says that quietly, and then takes a breath. By now I feel nauseated. We both know what he wants to really say.

You shouldn’t be with Lucio. How could you be? What do you see in him?

“I will be at the masquerade,” he finally confirms. “With all the excitement and drinking, the palace could use a physician on duty.”

I want to be mad, so badly. Instead, I feel my throat constrict with the painful threat of tears. My eyes burn, and I look directly in Julian’s eyes, focusing on his eyepatch for a split second. I understood that he was still upset with Lucio, and that he and Asra may never forgive him... but... they were my friends too. Shouldn’t they be happy that I’m happy? 

“I see.” My voice wavers, and he looks away in guilt. “Well... I guess you just returned. You must be tired. I have to speak with the landscapers, so I... will see you soon. Good night, Dr. Devorak.”

Julian flinches when I call him that, but I pass him quickly, suddenly wishing I was back at the shop.

[raendown]

My final entry for @narutorarepairweek! Today’s prompt is free day and I took the opportunity to drag an old WIP out of the closet at last. 

Pairing: TobiramaKagami Rated: E Chapter: 1/4 Word count: 3181 Summary: It shouldn't be so surprising that it's Kagami who makes the opening move, asking for so little when he desires so much. From there their relationship unfolds in a tapestry of firsts they've both been waiting to experience.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Senpō

Kagami wasn’t sure how exactly he’d gotten the man to agree. Most likely he had worded it in such a way that Tobirama hadn’t really thought he was serious or maybe the older man was simply humoring him on the assumption that he would never actually win their little bet. Whatever it was, the fact remained Tobirama had agreed over a round of shogi that on the day Kagami beat him in a game he would accompany his one-time student on a date. Not just any old friends-hanging-out-together date either, a proper romantic date with romantic implications and possibly a few instances of actual romantic overtures. If he was lucky. 

There was something that Kagami had realized, however, that he didn’t think his friend had. While that in itself was a rare thing to say and should have filled him with triumph, he still found himself much more excited for the promised rewards than for the accomplishment of coming out on top of an agreement with one of the slipperiest people he had ever known. That more than anything would have made it obvious how important this was to him if he were bold enough to admit it to anyone. Just like any other Uchiha, he was quite fond of outsmarting someone notably smarter than him. 

Armed with this juicy little secret up his sleeve, Kagami made his way through the busy Hokage Tower with a smile on his lips and a bounce in his step. When he knocked on Tobirama's office door he knew very well that it was merely a formality. The man had definitely felt him coming before he’d even set foot inside the tower, had probably been tracking his staggered progress through the hallways and smirking in amusement each time he stopped to talk to someone. Still, Kagami didn’t presume to enter the other’s space until a deep voice which sent familiar shivers down his spine called out for him to do so. 

As offices go, Tobirama’s was fairly typical. It hadn’t changed much over the last few years while peace settled deeper and deeper in to the bones of the village. His bookshelves were perhaps a bit more full and the small couch against one wall was perhaps a bit more well used but he still sat behind the same old desk, pushed up close to the same old window where the man could stick his head outside and holler up at his brother one floor above. 

Hokage he might be but there was nothing which motivated Senju Hashirama more than fear of his younger sibling’s waspish temper. 

In keeping with a pattern they had been playing out since the first year they trained together, Tobirama pretended to ignore him at first, appearing as though he had lost himself in the papers strewn about his desk. He kept his head down while Kagami wandered the edges of the room fiddling with this or that until finally the older man deigned to look up at him with one brow raised. 

“Did you need something?” The twitch of his lips belied the irritation he pretended to affect. Kagami grinned brightly. 

“I came to challenge you to a game,” he said. 

“Hm. Again?” 

“As many times as it takes!” 

Kagami took it as encouragement when all Tobirama did was huff out what passed for a laugh when it came to him and shake his head, one arm gesturing for the board still neatly packed with all its pieces and set in the same spot as always. He didn’t need any further words to hurry across soft carpet and pull out the shogi board, hauling it over to the desk while his friend cleared some space for them to play. A grin sat wide and open on his face as he shook the wooden pieces out of their holding bag and began to set them up. 

“You’re looking particularly cheerful today. Feeling confident?” 

“I’ve got something up my sleeve that you won’t expect for sure!” Kagami chirped. Tobirama graced him with an indulgent nod. “Today’s the day! And I mean it this time! No backing out at the last minute either!”

“We made an agreement, did we not? I am a man of my word after all.” 

The younger only smirked as he spun the board to offer Tobirama the first move. Usually he was offered the advantage of moving first but today he was confident that no matter what happened, he was going to leave this office a winner. Today was the day he earned himself a bona fide date with Senju Tobirama. 

As they usually turned out, the match wasn’t a particularly long one. Kagami wasn’t a stupid person by any long stretch but there were few outside the Nara who could hope to match this man’s intellect and shogi had always been one of Tobirama’s favorite leisure activities. It came as no shock when Kagami was once again thoroughly trounced without any hope of winning only halfway through the game. Yet it appeared to shock Tobirama when he retained his cheerful smile without a single hint of faltering. Piece by piece his defeat grew closer and yet, even as he was finally declared the loser of this round, Kagami did nothing but sit quietly and do his best imitation of sunshine. 

Clearly confused, Tobirama sat back in his chair with a thoughtful expression. 

“Would you like a second game to try again?” he ventured, obviously trying to feel out what kind of situation was going on here. Kagami hummed, stroking dramatically at his chin. 

“I dunno. You’ll probably beat me again.”

“Yes, true.” Tobirama’s face scrunched together in irritation. “But if you leave then it’ll take me longer to figure out what you’re up to.” He didn’t look too impressed when his one-time student laughed at him. 

“Alright, how about this? Roshambo. If you win I’ll stay.”

“Odd choice but fair.” 

Leaning forward, he set one palm flat one the desk and raised the other in a fist, eyeing the younger man somewhat challengingly. Kagami happily took that challenge. He was barely holding in a snicker while he made his way back over to the desk to hold out his own fist, ready for battle, as it were. 

Together they counted to three and bobbed their hands three times – only to both choose rock. On the second try they both chose scissors. Kagami laughed and said they could try just one more time, biting his lip to keep the triumphant laughter at bay. He knew Tobirama better than anyone else and in all likeliness the man had never bothered to note his own habits during the rare game of roshambo someone might convince him to take part in. 

On the third round Tobirama chose paper, the only option he hadn’t chosen yet and thereby unconsciously completing the set in his mind. Knowing he would do so allowed Kagami to make the smart decision and choose scissors again to come out the winner. Upon presenting their choices he reached over and pretended to snip Tobirama’s fingers with his own, grinning so wide it made the muscles in his cheeks hurt.

“I win,” he breathed. “One date, please.” 

“What?” Tobirama blinked at him, nonplussed. Kagami cleared his throat.

“You agreed that if I won a game against you we could go on one date. But you never specified at the time that the game had to be shogi so by the wording of our original agreement…I win. And you owe me one date. Does tomorrow work for you?”

It took a moment for Tobirama to process that but when he did he look stunned as he realized that it was true. “Well I’ll be damned. You’re right; I never did specify that it had to be shogi. Well done Kagami. Excellently played.”

“So…?”

“Tomorrow does indeed work for me. Or if you prefer, I am also available tonight.” He smiled ever so gently, giving Kagami a very serious case of weak knees.

“Yeah! A-alright! Tonight is good too! Awesome!” Swallowing around the nervous lump which had just appeared in his throat, Kagami held fast to his suddenly wobbling smile. “I really thought I’d have more time to prepare myself but – okay! Yeah!”

“Prepare yourself? For what?”

“Nothing! See you tonight!” 

Whirling on his heel, Kagami dashed out of the room and made it halfway down the stairs before he had to turn around and creep back up, sheepishly peeking his head around the door to see Tobirama still standing there with an amused expression. 

“You may pick me up from my home at six o’clock.”

“Right!” 

And with that he took off down the hall once more.

The next several hours were a blur for the young man. If asked he would not have been able to say what he had done with his day, only that he’d had Tobirama on his mind the entire time and his stomach had been a constantly churning mess of nerves and excitement. It was finally happening. Tonight he would have his shot. He’d been waiting for this for so long that he could hardly believe it was actually happening. 

When he checked the clock and noticed that it was getting a bit late Kagami supposed he must have gotten at least most of his duties done that day considering Koharu hadn’t tracked him down for another lecture about responsibility. He wasn’t really irresponsible, only forgetful. Actually, he’d always thought that he and Tobirama would balance each other rather nicely in that respect; Tobirama would help him stay more focused when it was appropriate while he was one of the few people able to convince the older man to take a break every so often. 

In fact, there were a lot of ways Kagami thought they might complement each other and he had every intention of trying to work all of them in to their dinner conversation that evening.

At six o’clock sharp he was standing on Tobirama’s doorstep in a clean, wrinkle-free yukata which his poor exasperated aunt had assured him brought out the faint hints of blue in his typical blue-black hair. With a steadying breath in and out – then another because the first didn’t help – Kagami rapped three times on the door before him and did his best not to look like he was about to faint. He almost did anyway when Tobirama answered the door in a simple yukata of the softest gray edged with little silver rain droplets that gave his skin a luminescent glow. 

“Wow,” he breathed. “You – am I allowed to tell you that you look amazing?”

“Compliments are always appreciated,” Tobirama replied easily as he breezed down the front steps, leaving Kagami to scramble after him. 

“Good. Yeah. Cause you look amazing. Well, I mean, you always do but you’re usually not dressed like this and it’s nice to see you so casual every once in a while, you know? So I think you look extra good and now I’m going to stop talking.” His cheeks felt like he’d swallowed one of his own grand fireballs. He really thought he would make it longer than ten stupid seconds before embarrassing himself like this. 

Thankfully Tobirama was good enough to brush his nattering idiocy aside as easily as always. “I’m pleased you think so. And might I add that you look rather nice yourself in that color.”

Kagami very much hoped the helpless whine he made at that comment went unheard. 

Dinner was, in a word, amazing. He’d never had Tobirama’s attention to himself like this for so long. Usually one of their other former teammates accompanied them or they saw each other briefly at the tower before work sent them their separate ways. Playing shogi in the office had become the only time they shared alone but it was usually no more than an hour due to Tobirama’s busy schedule. Kagami was thrilled when they finally left the restaurant and his date suggested a walk through a nearby park, ensuring that he would have just a little more time to live in this transient dream-come-true. 

At the park they wandered around the edge of the large pond three times and weaved around each individual tree at least twice, their conversation ranging from Tobirama’s latest research to whether or not Kagami’s neighbor might be a retired assassin from Kiri in disguise. It was absolutely amazing, more than he could have ever dreamed of, and yet by the time he found himself escorting the other back through the wide avenues of the Senju district Kagami couldn’t help but feel that it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough. He could spend weeks on end in this man’s presence and when the time came to part he would still beg for just five more minutes.

They paused at the bottom of the three stairs which would take Tobirama back to his home, facing each other in silence for a few heartbeats until the older man tilted his head to one side with a curious furrowing of his brow.

“I did have fun tonight, if that was your worry.”

“Oh! No, sorry. I don’t mean to spoil it all, I was just, um, a little sad that it’s over now.”

“What do you mean ‘over now’?” 

Kagami shifted his weight, dropping his eyes to watch his hands fiddle with each other. “Nothing. Doesn’t everyone wish every good date could last forever?”

“I’m flattered you consider me so.” There was humor in Tobirama’s voice but he couldn’t bring himself to look up to see it until the man continued. “Doesn’t a good date usually end with a kiss?”

“Please don’t make fun of me,” Kagami said, hoping his voice would behave and not wobble. 

His companion blinked, clearly startled.

“Make fun of you? What gave you the impression I was making fun of you in any way?”

“I know this was a pity date. You don’t actually think of me this way. And that’s okay! Really! I’m grateful that you humored me; but I know that you didn’t think I would ever actually win and you only came because you try to always keep your word. So please don’t make fun of me by pretending. I did have a good time tonight. Just…I’m just sad that it’s over and I have to go back to…you know. How things were before.” Kagami shrugged and caught his bottom lip between his teeth, worrying at it nervously. 

Obviously Tobirama had been aware of his feelings for a while now but it still went against his instincts to make himself so vulnerable, to open his heart and ask another man to smash it. Tomorrow and the weeks ahead of them promised to be quite awkward as he tried to fit himself back in to that space where he pretended that mere friendship was enough. He couldn’t bring himself to regret any of this, though. Pretending was something he could do on his own with a little imagination. Having the chance to actually glimpse what the reality might be like was an amazing experience, something he would hold on to for a very long time to come. 

Kagami was startled out of his maudlin thoughts by the hand that grasped his chin and wrenched his face up to see the displeased expression on Tobirama’s face. 

“Pity date,” the man snarled dismissively. 

Then suddenly they were kissing, lips hot against his own, devouring, destroying, demanding until it was all Kagami could do to remind his poor heart to continue beating. A whimper escaped him and Tobirama swallowed it, nipping at him to encourage his lips to part and then licking inside to draw out a helpless moan. 

He was gasping for air when they parted, only avoiding embarrassment because it was clear that Tobirama was having a little trouble catching his own breath as well. 

“You kissed me!”

“I did.”

“W-why did you kiss me?” Kagami heard his voice crack but he couldn’t be bothered to worry about it, not when the answer to his question was much more interesting. He dared not move lest the hands framing his face let go and leave him devoid of their warmth.

“Honestly,” Tobirama scoffed. “Why does one person usually kiss another?”

Squirming inside, Kagami said, “Usually because they like each other. But you–!”

“Do you really believe me so cruel as to allow such behavior and then to strip it all away as a joke?”

“Um…”

“Is it so hard to believe that I might actually return your interest?”

“Yes?”

“Ridiculous. And worrisome. I had not realized you believed all of this to be merely a humoring of your desires. Had I known I certainly would have explained myself a long time ago.”

Feeling a little off-balance and possibly also slightly nauseous with so many conflicting emotions, Kagami took a deep breath to ask, “Explain what?” 

Tobirama paused to look closely at him before speaking, the hands still framing his face sliding down the sides of his neck and across his shoulders to squeeze gently. It was a more affectionate gesture than he had ever seen the man grant to anyone besides the Hokage himself – and even then only on very rare occasions. His expression was so gentle it was nearly heartbreaking.

“When I accepted your wager it was not because I was hoping to put you off with an impossible task. In truth I was wary that your interest may not be…entirely genuine. Not to say that I doubted you but I worried that your feelings were the product of misplaced hero worship.” Tobirama pinched his face in to a well-worn look of self-deprecation. “I can admit now that it was not the best method of assuaging my fears but my intention was to gauge your perseverance, to see if you were serious enough to pursue this or if you would lose interest when attaining my affection came with road blocks. It is…within my nature to test things I don’t fully understand.”

“So you were making me work for it just to see if I would?” Kagami summarized. 

“I was trying not to put it in to such crass terms but yes.”

A part of him wanted to be a little offended but the rest of him was already reaching that floaty state of disbelief as he finally came to terms with the impossible: the man he was in love with actually liked him back. 

“Holy crap,” he mumbled. 

“Very eloquent,” Tobirama teased, tucking his head down until they were but a hairsbreadth apart and the proximity stole Kagami’s breath all over again. “Now, I should very much like to kiss you again. I think we’ve both been waiting long enough for this. A reward seems to be in order for such diligent patience.” 

“Gods yes.”

“Charming.” 

His date smirked at him and Kagami’s knees almost folded underneath him. He remained standing only through sheer force of will, eager to taste the older man once again. Tobirama didn’t keep him waiting long. 

[yandere-society]

Hi. Classic bestfriends to lovers au with insecure yandere!JK who changes in the beggining of the relationship? Thank you sm!

Admin/Writer- Chinkbihh 

Trigger Warnings- Yandere, Violence, Unhealthy Relationship Behavior, Mention Of Split Personality

Word Count- 6.7k

Puppy Love

“And they called it puppy love, just because we’re seventeen…tell them all, oh please tell them it isn’t fair, to take away my only dream.”

“Jungkook, if you say what I think you’re going to say… then I’m gonna have to roundhouse kick you.”  

You glared at the doe-eyed boy as the warning left your lips in a mock menacing tone.

Jungkook held his hands up in surrender and gave you his traditional wide eyed innocent look when he knew he had successfully fucked with you.  

“I’m just saying, I really think you should give deep dish pizza a second chance.”  His breathy voice pleaded.

You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to the assignment that you were meant to be working on.  Jungkook instead favored discussing what type of pizza to order tonight, knowing that he could push your buttons by mentioning your least favorite kinds.

“Kook, if I wanted to drink a jar of tomato sauce then I would’ve done it by now.”  You grumbled, trying to end this stupid argument before it got too out of hand. Sometimes you and Jungkook would have the biggest blowouts over the most unimportant things.  One time, you guys didn’t talk for a week because Jungkook had the audacity to bring you an onion bagel instead of your prefered rasin one.

Immature?  Yes.

But with that stupid bunny like grin that sparkled with mischievousness at every little bicker and trick he pulled, you couldn’t help but think he did it on purpose.  

So of course you fought back.  

But it never got too crazy.  

Jungkook and you were the best of friends.  

In a weird way, it was an opposites attract type of deal.  Jungkook was timid, a perfectionist and neat. On the other hand, you were outspoken, laid back and a tad messy.  Hell, you guys could’ve been your own sitcom. But it was simply just a good platonic friendship.

You were too boyish to have many girl friends.

Jungkook was a bit too shy to be part of the bro pack.  

Thus you found alliance within each other.  

That didn’t mean you didn’t have any moments of not wanting to punch him in the face.  

“Can you stop being an ass and help me with this problem?”  You moaned in misery, you had been on the same problem for ten minutes now with no solution.

Jungkook was a whiz with math meanwhile you were awful at it, like having dyslexia with numbers.  

Jungkook tilted his head and leaned over your desk, taking a good look at the problem before popping his head back up to smirk at you.  “I could…but why should I?”

You groaned and plopped your head face-first onto the desk.  You should’ve expected this, Jungkook never gave anything away for free.  You always had to bribe or blackmail him into doing anything helpful for you.  

Blackmail.

That’s it!

Acting as casual as one coul, you mumbled just loud enough for him to hear; “I guess I’ll have to ask that Namjoon kid for help.  He’s always getting straight A’s.”

1.

2.

3.

Like clockwork, Jungkook sprinted into action and snatched your paper away,

You looked up to see him with a pencil already in hand, scribbling down answers at lightning speed.

Secretly, you smirked.  

Worked like a charm.

You see, Jungkook had this weird overprotective thing with you.  It can best be described as what an older brother probably feels with a younger sister and boys.  All you had to do was threaten to hang out with a boy that wasn’t him, and Jungkook was putty in your hands.  

You must admit, you did abuse this power at times.  But you never took it too seriously.

Jungkook would never hurt anyone.  He was like a little puppy. And it wasn’t as if you had any serious intention of being with a guy, therefore it was all in good fun.  

When Jungkook was finished, he handed you back the paper.

You attrieved it, but while doing so Jungkook looked at you intensely and said; “You don’t need to run to other boys.”  

You chortled and stood up to pack your things.  “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard this lecture before. All men only think with their dicks and I can only trust you.”

“It’s true (Y/n)!  You’re not in the boy’s locker room everyday, I am.  The things they talk about are disgusting and I don’t want you to be just one of these bastards’ tale to share.”  

You rolled your eyes and motioned for him to get up as well.  

“I wouldn’t put it past them.  C’mon, we gotta go. My mom wants me home early tonight.  So if we’re going to watch that movie then we better leave now.”  

–

Jungkook and you had a deal.  

You pick the pizza while he chose the movie.  

You readily agreed, already knowing that you wouldn’t eat whatever crap he would order just to spite you.  

So there you two sat, in his dark room as the screen glowed with some stupid action movie that Jungkook had probably seen hundred times already.  

It was kinda cute really, the way Jungkook’s eyes would light up or how he would mouth ‘woah’ everytime the good guy would do a cool move while defeating the evil dude.  He was like a nine year old fanboy of some dumb superhero.

You personally didn’t care for the film, so when you felt your phone buzzing, you felt no guilt in checking whom it was.  

You pulled out the device quietly, making sure to lower the brightness to not disturb Jungkook’s viewing.  He tended to get cranky when he caught you on your phone during movies.

Briefly, you took a peek from the safety of your notifications screen.

It was a DM from one of your social media accounts.  

The sender?  

Park Jimin.  

You inwardly face palmed as that name rung a familiar bell.  

To be honest, you were surprised it took him this long to reach out to you.  

He must have run out of girls to bother.  

Park Jimin was one of school’s biggest fuckboys.  The boy had more dick pics floating around than followers.  And that was saying something. A lot of girls had fucked him, half of them were just worn down by his constant begging for some pussy.  The other half genuinely thought he was attractive and wanted to hop on that dick. You couldn’t deny it though, Jimin was indeed good looking.  To bad he had a walnut for a brain and most likely more STDS than letters in the alphabet.

You clicked on the notification to see the message.  The choice was centered on the fact that you were curious and would’ve loved a good laugh.  

‘Heyy ;)’ it read, intentions somehow loud and clear.  

You couldn’t help but giggle.  How fucking orginal was this guy?!  It was as if he had the fuckboy for dummies book right beside his phone and was using it to start this conversation.  

‘Gee never heard that one before.  Not like most guys huh?’’ You texted back.  Might as well fuck with him…

“Who are you texting?”  

Your head snapped up to see Jungkook facing you, face wiped off of any amusement and movie long forgotten, focused solely on you.  Or more importantly…the phone in your hand.

You had been caught.  

“N-no one.”  You stuttered and tried to shuffle away to shield the screen.  

Bad choice.  

Jungkook leapt for your phone and with the obvious advantage for strength, he managed to pry the phone from your hand.  He stood up to his full height and positioned the phone over his head, looking up to read the screen and ignoring your eager jumping to get the device.  

Curse his height.  

You watched with dread as Jungkook’s face grew more grim as he without a doubt took note of who reached out to you.  

He was still for a moment.  

Creepily still.

You then watched in horror as Jungkook began typing something onto your phone.  

“Jungkook what the fuck?1”  You shrieked as he sent his message and tossed your phone back to where you two had been sitting.  

“No, what the fuck Y/n?!  Park Jimin, seriously?!” He yelled, his face growing red as his inky black eyes glared at you.  

“He messaged me and I literally sent something back for fun.  You’re acting like I’m trying to be his wife or something.” You couldn’t believe how absurd he was being.  Did he genuinely think you were trying to seriously talk to such a notorious fuck boy? How could your best friend think so low of you?

“You shouldn’t be responding to boys at all, Y/n.”  he huffed this out as if it was obvious.

Your eyes widened in shock at his own audacity to say something so blatantly wrong.  He had said ‘boys’….as in all males in general and not just Jimin. Now it wasn’t like you had any intention of getting a boyfriend or something, but to know that Jungkook wouldn’t even support you being with a decent guy just because he had such a deep rooted hatred towards his fellow gender was blood boiling.

“Jungkook, you can’t tell me who I can and cannot respond to.  And newsflash; I’m going to probably have a boyfriend one day and maybe get married in the future so you better accept that or stop being friends with me!” you yelled at him.  

His face crumpled in despair and instead of looking livid like we was before, he just looked depressed as if he just received soul crushing news.  You watched in bewilderment as unshed tears began to make his orbs look more glossy as his lips morphed from a snarl to a frown as his lips wobbled.  

“You-You don’t understand, Y/n.  I can’t let you be with any other guy.”  He choked.

Jungkook wasn’t usually a sensitive guy, you rarely ever saw him cry so this sight was new territory for you.  However you also were still angry. Why was he being so unreasonable? You thought it was obvious that you were going to marry someone one day.  You also thought it was obvious that one day Jungkook would find a nice girl and marry her. You could go to each other’s weddings and give speeches…why did he suddenly act like this was the end of the world?  What did he think was going to happen? That you two were just going to live out your days watching stupid action movies and video games until one of you croaks?

“Jungkook, what’s wrong?  Of course I’m going to get a husband one day.  Just like you’ll get a lovely wife one day. Maybe we’ll meet them in college or something and go on double dates.  I would be so happy for you. Won’t….won’t you be happy for me?” You trailed off at the end, watching closely as Jungkook’s face only got more and more dejected with every word you spoke.  

Your heart dropped as he avoided your eyes and your question.

He wouldn’t be happy for you….

You rolled your eyes and rushed to get your things before going home.  

So maybe your best friend wasn’t that good of a friend after all.  How tragic. Maybe you should’ve heeded the warnings given earlier.  You should’ve known something was up with how ‘overprotective’ he was.  

You gathered your things and was about to head to the door when Jungkook panicked and began to mumble incoherently.  You attempted to tune this out and reached the door, until he exploded with something that made you freeze in your tracks.  

“I like you, okay?!  I fucking like you and I don’t want you to be with another guy that isn’t me!”  

Silence.  

All that you heard was the sounds of your pounding heartbeat and his frantic panting after he just said something that could possibly ruin your friendship.

You took a deep breath and twisted the doorknob before walking out of it.  

Only on your way home did you allow yourself to send a text to Jungkook.  

‘I hope you’re a better boyfriend than you are a best friend.  FWI if our first date is a mortal combat night I’m literally dumping you.’

–

Dating Jungkook was not much different than being best friends with him.  

Surprisingly, the banter and casual playfulness amongst you two never stopped.  

Sometimes Jungkook would try to be ‘manly’ and ‘gentlemanly’ while doing something he thought was ‘romantic’, but that would only like about 5 seconds before you both fell into a giggly mess.  You guys never took yourselves too seriously and simply enjoyed each other’s company.

However, something was a bit different  

He became a bit more…present in your life.  

One day, you were complaining to him about how you had just started the swim unit in gym.  He didn’t seem to have a problem with it (even jokingly asked if he can get bikini pics) until you mentioned that the class was co-ed and the guys liked to be jerks and do constant cannonballs  in the pool.

His face dropped so fast.  

“What?  There’s boys in there?”  He asked incredulously.

You just nodded, pretty sure everyone knew that all the gym classes in your school weren’t separated by gender.  

He then proceeded to demand that you put on some type of shirt and shorts over your bathing suit because he didn’t want anyone ‘looking at you like that’.  Whatever that meant….nonetheless you agreed just to shut him up. You thought that this would be the end of it.

Nope.  

The first day of the unit was the teacher just going through some basic pool rules before the students would hop in the next day.  You were in the middle of listening to the dumb lecture about caution in the deep end when you felt your phone buzz within your pocket.  You looked up to make sure the teacher was too engrossed to what they were saying before you pulled out your phone to see who it was.

It was Jungkook.

‘Are u in gym rn?’  

‘…..yes, why?’  

‘Send me a pic of the boys in your class.’  

‘Im sorry WHAT?’

‘I wanna see the guys in your class so I know what i’m dealing with if they see too much.’

‘Jungkook….pls reread the text you just sent and tell me you know how crackheadie you sound.’

‘I’m not playing around Y/n.  Send me pic. How am I supposed to know they’re not fuck boys?’

You briefly glanced at the other side of the room where the majority of the boys were sitting, grouped up together in some weird testosterone cluster/pack.  You scoffed after scanning their faces and almost giggled at how ludicrous Jungkook’s suspicion was.

‘Fine, see for yourself.’  you sent before you carefully took a quick snap of the boys and delivered it to him.  

You smirked as you saw Jungkook’s three little dots pop up only to disappear again, hinting that he was having trouble sending out another message.  

‘See?  It’s just soundcloud rappers and nerds.  I don’t think you have to worry ;)’ you tauntingly sent back to him.  

“Miss (L/n), please do explain why you have your phone out.”  

Your head snapped up as you stuffed the phone back into your pocket for safe-keeping.  

“Sorry Mrs. Bennett.”

–

Jungkook had you on your phone much more often too.  

He was in constant contact with you 24/7, and if you didn’t answer a text or call in time then you’d never hear the end of it.  

“I just don’t understand why it takes you forever and a day to answer a fucking snap Y/n.”  Jungkook huffed over facetime one night.

You rolled your eyes as you positioned your phone so you could comfortably get into your bed while not ruining his viewing of you.  “Kook for the last time pal, I was in the shower.”

“Still.”  He childishly pouted.   “You need to answer your phone more consistently.  How am i supposed to know if you’re alright or not if I can barely get ahold of you?”

You snorted as you nuzzled your pillow and brought your phone closer to your face.  “Jungkook, my phone literally dies like 5 times a day because of how often I’m on it with you.”  

“I hate not being with you all the time.”  He groaned. A sudden text notification popped up on your screen, you clicked on it and a reaction from Jungkook was instantaneous.  “Hey! What did I say about going on pause while we’re on facetime? If I wanted to look at a blank screen and not my beautiful girlfriend I would be doing that right now!”  He whined.

“It’s my cousin, kook.”  you blandly answered while reading over the message you just received.

“What do they want?”  he wasn’t pleased with anything that stole your attention.  World War Three could break out and he’d still want to be your main priority.  

“It’s her birthday this weekend and she wants me to go to her birthday party.”  You told him while clicking back to the facetimes screen to face his pouty expression.  

Your cousin was the same age as you but she attended another highschool and had other friends from that school.  For this reason, whenever she invited you to hang out with them you would always decline given you knew none of them.  But since it was her birthday party, you supposed you could put aside your awkwardness to celebrate with her.

“I thought we were going to that new cafe this weekend!”  he interjected, brows scrunching in frustration as he also got into his bed.  

“Jungkook I’m pretty sure our little coffee date won’t take 48 hours.”  you laughed.

His face melted into a expression of seriousness as he leaned towards the camera and stared at you with a dreamy gaze.  

“I never thought we’d end up together.”  He whispered, seemingly enchanted by your laugh with his previous frustrations forgotten.  

You blushed under the intensity of his gaze.  

It was quiet for a moment as you just let him study you with the adoration practically drowning you from across the screen.  He tended to do this often too; compley zone out and only focus on you no matter where he was or what he’s doing.

“Y/n?”  

“Yeah?”

“….you have a booger.”  

–

“Everyone is already here!  Y/n where are you?” Your cousin asked over the phone.  

You huffed and rushed apologizes through the receiver as you ransacked your closet in search of a dress to wear.  “I’m so sorry (c/n). I swear I lost track of time.”

This was a lie given that you were just at Jungkook’s house and he refused to let you leave his hold even after you pointed out that you were going to be late.  He needed his cuddles or else heads were gonna roll. His words, not yours.

“Whatever, be here as soon as possible.  My friends are stoked to meet you.” She told you before hanging up.  

You hastily tried to get ready and make yourself presentable under such a harsh time crunch.   When you were done you quickly ran out the door.

–

Jungkook hated the term ‘highschool sweetheart’.  

It was so offensive to him.  

It gave the implication that the love wasn’t serious or as valid as older people’s romances.  He hated it for it was such an umbrella term to shrug off the emotions people like Jungkook felt when he was with you- all because of his age.  But whenever he spent time with you or even just looked at you; he knew deep down that you were his soulmate. He knew that husbands who have been married to their wives for years could not hold a candle to the devotion he had for you.  

He was so relieved that you let him be your boyfriend, it was becoming so tiresome to have to play the ‘friend’ role.  He finally felt free to express his true thoughts and feelings with you due to no barrier of misunderstanding.

He was your boyfriend now.

The only man you should be with in a romantic way.  

He knew the relationship between you two was becoming more and more serious.  He could feel the intimacy grow whenever he was with you. Somehow, Jungkook found it hard to think he could ever be so vulnerable or real with anyone else.  The ‘awkward’ stage so many talked about was simply nowhere to be seen with you. You were comfortable and fit by his side like a puzzle piece. It was like you were made for him and the humorous and warm hearted banter never left because you two were just so….in sync.  

The moments he spent with you made him feel so delirious with joy that he quickly found himself experiencing withdrawals whenever he wasn’t near you.  

You were such a beautiful, smart and funny girl that he couldn’t help the paranoia that ate at him whenever you weren’t by his side.  Only a blind man wouldn’t be able to see what a angel you were. So of course he had a primal urge to keep what was his, his. He somehow just knew that when he wasn’t near you, other men were eyeing you with gazes that he should only be directing at you.  It was downright blasphemous for such things to be allowed.

The only way he could soothe his pandemonium of rushing thoughts is if he could talk to you.  So obviously he bombarded you with texts and snapchats to get his reassurance that you belonged to him.  He knew you noticed the change within him. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Yet Jungkook wasn’t embarrassed by his growing clinginess, surely if you had a problem with it then you would have voiced it by now?  But you didn’t, you seemed annoyed by it at times but it was a more fond type of annoyance as you only laughed and brushed it off. This was the only green light Jungkook needed to continue his obsessive streak.

He needed you by his side.

He finally got you by some sheer dumb luck that decided to take pity on Jungkook and gift him with the most flawless human being he’s ever encountered.  

He’d have to be a madman to let anything take you away after barely getting you himself by the skin of his teeth.  

When he wasn’t with you, he was thinking of the next time he would be with you.  

Thus here he was, pacing his bedroom while pulling on his messy raven strands and trying to ignore the sensation of his own skin smothering him.  

Only hours ago, you had been in his room; blessing it with your addicting perfume and honeyed voice as you cuddled with him.  His arms still tingled with anticipation to feel your impeccable body mold wonderfully against his once again, but he reminded himself with a cry that you were ripped away from him.  

You had to leave in order to go to your cousin’s party.  

He decided to be merciful and let you go with as little fuss as he could muster.  Your cousin was your family and even he was aware of his inability to completely take you away from them.  But now as the time passed, Jungkook was beginning to regret his decision. He should’ve just told you to send a card or something, that way he wouldn’t have to be spending his saturday night all alone in the shadow of your former presence.

He had pleaded with you to at least give updates.  You had laughed and told him that you would most likely be home early but you’d try to text him when you could.  This gave him some comfort, but it was quickly melted away when the night went on and he still had an empty inbox.

Were you hurt?

Did you forget about him?

Did you find someo-

No.

Jungkook wildly shook his head side to side and tried to end that train of thought.  He couldn’t let himself think like that. If he allowed himself to ponder the likelihood of someone else stealing you, he’d most likely punch his wall in rage.  

Maybe your phone is just low on battery?

Yeah!  That must be it.  

However a sudden ding sounded from his phone and shut down this idea.  It wasn’t a text from you, but it was a notification he had set for all of your social media account. Hastily, Jungkook rushed to the precious device to drink up whatever info he could possibly get on you.

It was your snapchat.

He clicked on the little circle that showed you recently added to you story and studied that image with great focus.  

It was  group photo of all the party guests posing for a picture while the birthday girl grinned and held up the cake in front of them.  

Jungkook’s young, black and glossy eyes skimmed through the faces with great intensity.  Until the phone in his hands began to shake.

–

The party turned out to be pretty decent, your cousin’s friends welcomed you and were overall very nice people.  You found out quickly that It was strictly a teenage party, your aunt and uncle weren’t home and one of the friends managed to bring some alcohol for the event.  Although you liked your cousin’s friends, they seemed liked they partied often which was a sentiment you could not relate to.

You declined every offer for a drink but still conversed and participated in any way that you could.  That was until your phone started ringing like crazy; demanding your attention.

You quietly excused yourself and went to the bathroom for the seclusion that couldn’t be found anywhere else in the house.  

It was Jungkook.  

You pulled the phone to your ear and quietly answered; “hey, what’s up Kook-”

“Who the fuck were those people on your story?”  He growled over the line, interrupting your greeting.

“Umm…what are you talking about?  It’s just my cousin’s friends.” You responded, confused.  

“I thought it was going to be a family type of celebration….” your boyfriend whined.

Your eyebrows shot up at that.  “Kook, I never said that.”

You heard a tired exhale as he probably realised that you indeed hadn’t lied to him.  You had hopes that he would recognized how unreasonable he was being and apologize or at least hang up but instead he said; “I want you home.  Now.”

“Tough shit bro.  You’re not my dad and there’s no reason for you to demand me to come home.”  

“Y/n, I saw the beer bottles in the pictures and I know there’s multiple guys there.  What if they take advantage of you? You look gorgeous in that dress and I’m sure at least one of them has taken notice.”  

“I’m with you, you idiot!  You can’t even trust me to attend a party on my own?!”  You shrieked, baffled by his ignorance.

“Of course I trust you but I know jack shit about those guys there and liquor almost never helps any situation!”  

“I…can’t even talk to you right now.  I haven’t had a single drink and all the guys here have been keeping their distance while still talking to me.  You’re just being a jealous jackass.” you huffed.

“Y/n don’t han-”  you clicked the ‘end’ button  and exited the bathroom.

You tried to forget the whole conversation, but it was clawing away at you even after the call.  Jungkook was usually a nice and reasonable guy, but his temper was slowly decreasing after you had agreed to be his girlfriend.  When you were with Jungkook and no one else was around, he was back to being that sweet and playful guy you have know all along. But if anyone else (particularly men) was around you?  He morphed into a paranoid asshole who’s suspicion was spared for no one. It was exhausting having to keep up with two split personalities. You never felt like you were doing the right thing unless you locked yourself away to prevent Jungkook’s possessive streak.  But you were a smart girl and obviously you were aware of how unhealthy this was. Yet you wanted to see the best in him, he wasn’t always like that and as his first girlfriend he probably didn’t know how to properly filter his emotions.

You continued to laugh and talk to the other guests but there was a constant buzzing of your phone from your pocket.  

Jungkook wasn’t giving up and he continued to send text after text.  But you were also stubborn and you refused to look at them. You didn’t want to enable his behavior any further than you already have.  Maybe this was just your first ‘fight’ as a couple but to you it was deeper than that.

The messages couldn’t be ignored for too long.  You had to check the time on your phone and the home screen was littered with texts from Jungkook.  Your eyes briefly went over them but the most recent one caused your stomach to drop.

‘If you don’t come home in the next thirty minutes, I’m telling your mom what those kids are doing at the party.’  

You bit your lip to suppress yelling at the device in anger.  

You couldn’t believe that he would blackmail you like that!  Just to get you away from the boys he deemed a ‘threat’. He would cut your night short just to satisfy his stupid little male ego.  Naturally, you wanted to tell him to fuck off and that he couldn’t control you. But, you knew that Jungkook didn’t bluff and you couldn’t risk your mother finding out what was happening around you at the party.  Plus she would most likely tell your aunt and uncle and that would be opening a whole other can of worms. With a huff you got up and began your search for your cousin, hoping she could give you a ride home.

Said family member was dancing wildly on her kitchen table, laughing loudly as her friends down below cheered her on.  You eyed this scene with a frown, knowing right away that she was far too drunk to drive safely.

How the fuck were you supposed to get home now?  

It was too late, far and dark for you to walk.  

You were screwed.  

“You good?”  

You turned around to see one of your cousin’s friends standing next to you.  You recalled getting introduced to him earlier, his name was Max and he seemed like one of the more mellow ones of the group.  You smiled at him despite being sure that he just saw you inwardly panicking. “Um, no actually. (C/n) was my ride home and something just came up so…”  

Max looked over at the dancing girl and cringed.  “Yeah, I wouldn’t want her on the road either.”

You groaned and pulled out your phone. “I guess I can just uber home.”

“Nonsense!  I can take you home.”  He offered with a grin.  

–

“I cannot thank you enough for this, Max.”  

He laughed as he pulled into your house, “It’s no problem, really.  I was also gonna leave anyway.”

It was quiet for a moment in the car as you tried to form the words to say goodbye while also confirming your gratitude.

“No seriously, you didn’t have to.  I’m forever in your debt.” You joked while opening your door to step out.  When you were fully out, you bent down to wave goodbye once more before slamming the door close to begin your jog to your front door.  

You were just a few feet from your door when you heard the sound of a car opening and a shout, “Hey, can I get your snap or something?”  

You turned around to see Max had gotten out of his car and was holding out his phone, most likely hoping you’d go back and put in your information.  

You shrugged and figured that it was the least you could do for him.  

But you halted your steps forward when you caught a flurry of movement from your peripheral.  

All you could see was a figure wearing black that had emerged from the bushes and was striding toward Max.

It was moving really fast and had jumped onto the unsuspecting man, knocking him to the ground.  

You watched in horror as a storm of fists began assaulting Max with such animalistic ferocity that you couldn’t help but scream.  

You raced forward out of instinct to help the victim.  

Max groaned and tried to put up his hands as barriers to the beating but it was no use as the attacker seemed much stronger and was already straddling him.  Soon, blood made a appearance as the attacker broke Max’s nose with more punches. It sprayed everywhere as you moved to shove the guy off.

Your desperate attempts to knock the male off Max seemed to have little effect, the man being big and sturdy while having such focus on beating this guy to near death.  

However one of your pushes managed to pull down the hood of this attacker.  

It was Jungkook.

His usual innocent and boyish face was overshadowed with a barbaric fury that was tainted with blood splatters, completely contrasting the pale complexion.  

“Jungkook?!  What the fuck are you doing?!”  You shrieked in shock.

As if broken from a trance from your voice, Jungkook snapped his head towards you.  

His eyes got wide and terrified, like a kid who was just caught doing something wrong and was awaiting a yelling.  He slowly got off Max and stood on shaky feet, holding his hands out as if you were a wild animal he was attempting to tame.  

You heard Max pathetically crawl back into his vehicle before taking off like a mad man.  

You didn’t break eye contact with Jungkook as this was happening, too paralyzed by the turn of events.  

“Y-Y/n, I can explain.”  

“YOU ATTACKED A STRANGER FOR NO REASON!”  You yelled at him, accusatory tone causing him to flinch.  

“What were you doing with him anyway?!”  He growled back, defensive tone entering his voice as he stood straighter; like he just remembered that he too was mad.  

“I needed a ride home!”  You cried.

“With a guy?!  What the fuck Y/n?!  Don’t be naive. I know how men think.”  He threw his hands up in disbelief. “He even asked for your snap and you almost gave it to him!”  

“Jungkook, he was the only one at the party who wasn’t drunk who could safely take me home.”  You explained before pointing a finger at him in prejudice. “And I wouldn’t have had to rush home if you didn’t demand I come back within 30 minutes or else you were going to snitch!”  

You were about to turn around and march right into your home when another thought dawned on you.  “And why the fuck were you in my bushes?!”

Jungkook opened his mouth to explain, before quickly snapping it shut in realization that he had no good explanation for why he was there.  You felt the color drain from your face as a horrible conclusion formed without the need of words.

Jungkook once was a sweet guy, like an older brother that was a little dorky but protective nonetheless.  The very worse he would ever do was huff and puff when he saw you doing something he didn’t approve of. But it was almost as if becoming his girlfriend was a triggering point for his sanity.  Never did you think you would see Kook attack someone without being provoked, you never thought you would have to witness him dent someone’s face in and stain his in return with blood. He would always look down on those meatheads who would brawl in the hallways at your school over the dumbest shit, but now he was (if not even more) violent and childish than those jocks.  It was terrifying to feel like you had known someone for so long, only for them to turn around and shed their pleasant persona as if it was a second skin and the true core of them was much darker than you ever thought possible.

You teared up and stared at those bottomless chocolate orbs that always held a film of fondness over them when they focused on you and only you.  

“Kook….”  Your trailed up as a lump started to raise in your throat, begging you not to say what you were going to.  “….We need to break up. I don’t know who are right now or why you changed but….you fucking terrify me. I-I can’t.  Please, don’t contact me again.”

His face crumpled within itself.  

Your hurriedly turned around and booked it to your front door, ignoring the tortured cries of your name and luke-warm apologies that escaped his scorched throat as he hollered like a mad man on your front lawn.  

–

Rest was hard to acquire after such a dramatic night.  

It took lots of crying into your pillow and listening to sad songs but eventually you managed to doze off.  You awoken the next morning with a blotchy face and swollen eyes, your night of sleep did little to rejuvenate.  

It took you a little longer than usual to hurl your dense body over your bed, but you did so as your bladder was screaming for relief and your stomach was loud with hunger.  After the first need was taken care of, you began your journey downstairs in search of food.

Luckily, the smell of pancakes and coffee was drifting in the air.  You noted with a grin that your mother must’ve decided to take the time to make a hearty breakfast, something that was reserved for weekend mornings.  But your quest to the kitchen halted when you saw who was helping your mom with the cooking.

“Oh looks who’s up, sleepy head!”  Your mom glowed after spotting you in the entrance.  “Your boyfriend decided to stop by and make breakfast with us.”

Indeed, Jungkook stood by your mom and was dutifully mixing the pancake batter as she flipped the ones on the stove.  He was wearing a white sweater, his hair neatly put together and his face as doughy white and innocent as his bunny grin that was slapped on.  

He was putting on a show.

He hummed with that musical and breathy voice of his as he whisked away the batter.  

Your mother noticed your strange silence and awkward stance.  She giggled and motioned for Jungkook to keep an eye on the cooking pancakes before she guided you over to the table and gave you your usual cup of coffee.  “What’s that look for? Jungkook told me that you two recently became more than friends. Don’t be mad! He’s just a very honest boy who wanted my approval.”  

You heard weighted footsteps as Jungkook approached you both to hand you a plate of food.  He pretended to be sheepish and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry babe, I just wanted to tell your mom so she could understand why I’ll be coming over more often.”  

“Frankly it’s about time you guys realized your feelings for each other!  I always knew something was up.” Your mom chided playfully while heading back to tend to the food.  Jungkook took his cue to sit beside you, wrapping a sturdy arm around you as he nuzzled your neck. “Also, we need to talk prom.”

“P-prom?!”  You spluttered, finally able to make a noise of any kind.  

“Of course, Jungkook and I were just talking about it before you came downstairs.  I said you looked lovely in blue but he said he adored green on you.”

Jungkook’s arm tightened around you as he propped his chin on your shoulder to grin up at you, voice sugary but eyes serious as he said; “No worries, honey.  Your mom said she’d help us dress shop today.”

Jungkook was a puppy when needed.  

But a feral dog when no one else was around.  

Later your mother muttered how she noticed there seemed to be some blood stains on her lawn and she sure hoped that no one got hurt last night.  

Jungkook just laughed and glanced at you with an odd gleam in his eyes as if it was some sort of inside joke.  

“Let’s just hope it doesn’t have to happen again.”  

[thecandywrites]

Of Heaven and Fire Part 10

So, the storm is building and when it get’s bigger, we’ll see a spiral and then devastation, like a tornado. And all I can say is. Buckle up and I’m sorry. I’m usually the quintessential soft, sweet and fluffy writer, I don’t know where all this angst is coming from, but this story is keeping me sane during quarentine and maybe that’s why this story is as emotionally charged as it is. 

Tagging the crew. @probablyclever​, @imherefortheforthefanart​ and @funmadnessandbadassvikings​, your comments are giving me LIFE. And if anyone else wants to be tagged, just let me know. Enjoy. 

Of Heaven and Fire Part 10

The next morning came all too soon, you barely got any sleep the night before because all your worries kept eating away at you and once the storm died out. More angels and more heavenly moura than you could ever count surrounded the fleet. Two weeks ago you would have cried tears of joy and relief, now, just seeing them gave you dread. What looked like clouds was just...all angels and heavenly moura and you couldn’t tell which was which at this distance. It was an awe inspiring sight. And all the orcs were too afraid to come up on deck. 

“My Lords.” You greeted Suriel and Prince Cordene along with Prince Oriles who came up from the water via a pillar of water as you looked out and noticed the water practically teaming with merfolk trying to corral schools of fish. 

“Benyana, as you can see we brought reinforcements.” Prince Cordene practically crooned as he gestured to his many troops. “I have brought a hundred and fifty legions.” He bragged. 

“And I brought 200 legions, all who are ready to do your bidding.” Suriel beamed smugly as Prince Cordene tried to cover up his jealous glare. But you could see his feelings in his eyes. You didn’t know if you had the energy to juggle their competing egos today. 

“I see that and I’m eternally grateful for them. But I must prey upon your patience because this fleet still needs to fish. They can not return empty handed and as it stands, they are fearful for their own innocent lives to even come up onto the deck.” You tried to plead. 

“Well let us then send messages to them that they have nothing to fear from myself and my troops at least.” Suriel was the first to offer. 

“Likewise.” Prince Cordene immidiately added. 

“Thank you, that would mean a lot to me.” You thanked him sincerely as Suriel simply raised his hand and angels flew to every ship to deliver that message followed by Prince Cordene’s troops as well. 

“And please allow me to offer my own services, even as we speak, my citizens are schooling the various kinds of fish together. Please, tell me which ones you would most prefer.” Oriles offered before he pulled a wall of water up next to the ship that had the different kinds of fish in their own sections. Organized from the smallest to the largest which made you gasp in delight and astonishment. 

“Cugas, come here please.” You called before Cugas peeked his head above deck before he seemed to be pushed onto it by his crew below deck. 

“Hi,” Cugas greeted meekly before he came over. 

“Captain Cugas, I am Suriel, let me assure you that you and your fleet have nothing to fear on our account, Lady Benyana has informed us that you need to fish before you can return home since the fish are a food source for your clan. Please feel free to do so without fear. Once your boats are at their fill, then we escourt this fleet back to your harbor safely.” Suriel reassured him which you were grateful for. 

“Thank you.” Cugas nodded. 

“Prince Oriles is being oh so kind and considerate as to offer his assistance in the fishing.” You began as you reached into the column of water and got Oriles’ hand before you pulled it out and kissed his knuckles affectionately before he quickly and easily flipped his hand so that he was holding your face as you could see out of the corner of his eye that Prince Cordene was getting insanely jealous again. 

“Cugas, since I still only know a little about fish, I will follow your lead, please pick which ones you think would be best both for your clan and for Suchi.” You put to Cugas as you pulled away from Prince Oriles as he then lowered the wall and moved it around so that Cugas could get a good look at all the specimens. 

“This is the craziest thing to ever happen to me.” Cugas muttered under his breath to you as he looked at them all. 

“Oh, just wait.” You muttered back through a smile. 

“Uh so if I could get some of…” Cugas started to order off as he went through all the fish presented to him, especially happy that there was just a huge, massive variety and even the greater fish like tuna and swordfish, ironfish, cloud shark and stromwelo was offered as he then directed which boats he wanted which fish to go on and then which kind of crabs and lobsters he wanted in the pots before they got into position around the black eye of water and dropped their nets and in a matter of minutes, every net was full to almost the ripping point of the nets and in a matter of hours every hold on every ship was so full it was to the point of almost bursting before you saw the water dragons come up and blow ice at the boats, just enough that they had a nice layer of ice around the hauls, instead of being jagged like crystals, it was smooth as if it was carved that way and the boats were suddenly smoother in their sailing and the fish holds themselves were instantly frozen solid before you thanked the dragons personally before they presented you with a bubble that floated up from below the water up past it’s surface and into your hands. It was a sphere of what looked like a large ball of jade and while it was cool to the touch, it didn’t freeze your hands but the moment it touched your hands, it started to change colors into brilliant blues and purples and even pinks and reds. It was hypnotizing. 

“A special gift for the princess, your new most precious possession.” Yingshen winked at you. 

“Thank you.” You thanked her gratefully. It looked like it should weigh quite a bit but it was incredibly light before it shrunk down in size so that it fit into one hand and you were able to put it into your little purse like satchel for safe keeping as your instincts told you to protect it because it was something especially precious and something you should guard with your life and that the power contained within it was greater than you had ever known before and you were grateful it was contained, you would have to learn how to handle such power before you could wield it. 

“So while the nets are being put away, I wish to speak to all of you. Once I return to Suchi- I will begin accepting courting proposals. However, I would like- in writing- the rules of courting in each of your spheres, according to your ways, traditions and cultures and once I have all of them- I will read them and consider them before I set out my own rules on how I will wish to be courted and terms that will be fair and acceptable to all. And I can tell you right now that the first rule that no harm is ever to be done or even threatened against myself, my family, my colony or any of the other competitors, their families and their own dwelling places, be it a town or clan or tribe or city or whatever and there will be no sabotaging the other competitors.” You put to them as they weighed those terms over. 

“More details to follow, as soon as I figure them out myself.” You added which got them all to grin. 

“Agreed,” Suriel was the first to offer. 

“Yes, agreed.” Oriles agreed before Cordene begrudgingly agreed as well as you could already tell he had planned on sabotaging everyone else. 

It was almost instantaneous that once the fleet was squared away and the fleet was pointed back to port- the stiffest breeze the sails could take began to blow before a massive ship came up from the waters, it was the largest and most magnificent ship you had ever seen in your life. Like it was it’s own city on a ship and was so much larger than any ship in Cugas’ fleet and it followed the fleet before the winds picked up. The winds were so strong and so deliberate that what had taken you three days to sail out- now took barely a day to sail back and you barely had time to pack up your room with help from Brock as he watched you anxiously clean and pack. 

“Hey,” Brock softly murmured as he stilled your hands and made you just stop for a second and look at him. “Talk to me.” Brock invited. 

“I can’t. I’m sorry, I just...can’t.” You excused yourself as you pulled away from him but he quickly pulled you into a hug and just held you before you broke down crying.  

“I’m sorry,” He apologized. “It really is all my fault. I was being incredibly selfish in taking you and keeping you, I should have set you free that first night. And now we’re both worried about everyone around us being collateral damage.” He apologized and it was like he was pouring a soothing balm to your soul as you clung to him. 

“We’ll get through this, you’ll see.” He reassured you. 

By sunset you were back at Stormbreaker’s harbor and Brock’s family was at the docks waiting for you along with another family, judging by the way they were dressed, were of great importance but the relief on Brock’s family’s face when that shackle was nowhere to be seen on you was readily seen as you watched as Oriles came off the ship, sporting a pair of legs as you could tell he was still getting the hang of walking on them, his trident however still in his grasp as he came to stand with you as you introduced everyone to your new “friends” and revealed that Suriel and Cordene were also tasked with bringing you home and that no one should be fearful of the heavenly forces above all of you. 

“Oh thank the gods.” Rhos exclaimed as she hugged you tight before you pulled away and picked Kari up and held her tight, kissing her cheeks affectionately as she hugged you back. 

“Warchief Onvan, this is our moura friend Benyana.” She introduced you to them before he introduced himself and his family. 

“It is most auspicious that you’re here to celebrate the alliance. For we’ve discovered that our clans are sister clans.” Onvan announced. 

“Oh?” You feigned surprise. 

“Yes, it’s been discovered that the warchieftess is auric orc and Hurricane Breaker is the only clan to have auric orcs.” Onvan revealed proudly as you gave a curious look to Rhos who gave you a meaningful look in turn.  

“Auric...like, gold? Gold orc?” You repeated in confusion before they all turned around and you saw that...all of them had the moura gold neck tattoo. 

Oh shit. Fuck. 

You didn’t need to feign your surprise, your jaw was on the floor as your eyes got wide as you gasped as you and Prince Cordene were both shocked as you two looked in surprise at each other with hints of alarm while Suriel simply had a knowing smirk on his face. 

“What’s going on?” Oriles whispered to Suriel who gestured for him to just watch the scene unfold. 

“Wow. That’s..that’s amazing.” You tried to flatter despite the panic whirling ferociously in your chest. 

“Come, a feast is already ready for your return, let the others unload the boats.” He invited as his little ones came forward and encircled around you and urged you to come with them as Oriles, Cordene and Suriel and Brock followed you and you could see the panic in Brock’s eyes as Rhos was just simply trying to remain calm as you walked with them to a magnificent tent had been set up across from the warchief’s house and you sat down with the other kids surrounding you as they inspected all the embroidery on your clothes with eager eyes and fingers as you made your dress even bigger with stories sewn into the embroidery on the skirt to keep them and Kari entertained as you noticed Kari also had her hair up and it showed off her own golden neck tattoo as the guys sat nearby, all except for Suriel giving Brock a wide berth. 

“So tell me about auric orcs, I’ve never heard of them before.” You invited the warchief’s family.  

“For countless generations our clan has had this mark. When our babes are born, they grow a feather blanket out of it and once the blanket stops growing and detaches itself from the baby, the gold night happens, our god Zirvush comes alive and takes the feather blanket as it’s tribute and leaves behind the most wonderful treasures as a blessing! We use these to buy what the baby needs and what the family needs. And part of the blessings is that we cry diamonds!” Duzi, on of Onvam’s daughters who was only about seven or eight,  informed you excitedly before she went over and got her baby brother from her mother, one of Onvam’s dozen wives but not his warchieftess and the baby boy- who was only a few months old and brought him to you. 

“See? It’s almost done growing but it’s still stuck, once it’s done and it comes off, like an umbilical cord after a baby’s born,” she explained as you gathered him into your arms and started to coo at him. He had to be the most precious baby orc boy you had ever seen as you held him as he stared up in awed wonder at you, his little hands reaching out to grab your own free finger before he cooed back at you. 

“Aren’t you just so handsome! And oh so strong, you have a grip like iron!” You cooed at him and begin to rock him gently as you just take a moment to appreciate him as Onvam and his family beamed happily while you were sure Onvam’s eldest son Bedhu was imagining all the ways he could impregnate you judging by his leering at you holding his youngest half brother even though he himself had six wives too, all with children his younger sibling’s ages. 

“Warchief Onvam, I’m well aware that my grandmother has contracted you to bring me home and I know all the details of that contract. And while I know you are anxious to deliver me there, I have a proposition for you.” You began as you continued to rock the baby as Onvam and Bedhu practically drooled at your choice of words while the others simply looked to you curiously.  

“I know that your clan is quite rich while Stormbreaker is poorer by comparison. I wish to bring great wealth both to Stormbreaker but also to your clan as well.” You explained as you could feel Brock flush with a bit of embarrassment which made you feel a little guilty but you didn’t show it. “As it stands, all but one of the ships in port have their holds frozen solid, frozen on purpose by my friends Yingshen and her mate Pantaou that are a mated pair of oriental water dragons that I befriended in my times in the sea as a siren. Because as you’ve been informed, I’m a moura, granted a half blood mountain moura but a moura nonetheless and mouras and dragons, no matter the species are always allies and I’ll happily group you in with the blessing the water dragons have given me. If you don’t fish right over the black eye, but fish around it with shallow nets- they won’t destroy your boats and I trust your fleet as well as Stormbreakers fleet can come to an agreement about fishing that will benefit everyone, in fact I dare say you’ll have more success if you fish together. Now the fish and other seafood in those holds is intended for Suchi. Since I know the river that Stormbreaker sits on goes straight to the mountains that Suchi rests in. At the base of the mountain, where the river meets them is something of another harbor where all the merchants who travel up this river go to unload their ships of goods headed to Suchi and that they get paid in gold for their cargo at Suchi as well as the other colonies. I wish for Stormbreaker to be another merchant to Suchi and the goods they will sell will be some of the seafood they catch. And I wish for Stormbreaker to keep all the proceeds of that sale both this time and everytime in the future. But the citizens in Suchi may not know how to cook it, or at least cook it well. When you go with us, I want every good cook in your clan to bring all their cooking supplies and when we get to the colony square inside the gates, set up cooking stations, the citizens of Suchi will gladly pay Stormbreaker for the fish, but they will also pay you to process, clean and cook it all for them. I want the cooks in Stormbreaker to also feel free to do the same and the ice around those blocks of seafood will hold until we get there. No one should eat spoiled seafood and once it all sells, then you and Stormbreaker will be free to go back down the mountain back onto your boats and go out to sea to fish again. And if you sail in the circle current around the black eye over the water dragons, they will freeze your holds but only your holds and you’ll be able to come back, not just to Suchi but to the other colony Twilla that is at the top of the other side of the mountain who’s river estuary your own clan sits on and you can repeat this process and you’ll be able to sell all that you catch twice, once raw and again cooked. Ask ridiculous prices for it, make the cheapest fish go for a gold piece a pound and another gold piece for it cooked. And you’ll be able to repeat this as much as you want in addition to improving the river and the harbors in your territory as Stormbreaker will do the same in theirs and simply ask for either a flat fee from all those merchants to sail in your river to Twilla or a percentage of their own sales, whichever you prefer. Have your people pack as quickly as possible. Once you deliver me home, consider all of the terms of your contract with my grandmother fulfilled, nothing further will be asked or expected of you and you’ll receive your final payment and blessing before we even leave for Suchi. Because you’ll need those funds to buy whatever you would need or want because Suchi is an expensive place to stay for any length of time.” You proposed. 

“My clan will need a few days to get ready, will that be too long?” Onvam returned. 

“No, that’ll be just fine, I will need time myself to convene once again with my grandmother.” You smiled appreciatively at him just as a feast was brought out for you as you readily shared the giant portion of your food with all the little ones, helping them to eat too as food was brought out to the other guys, as Cordene and Oriles looked at the food wearily but after a few bites began to dig in as Suriel and Brock ate as well as you enjoyed yourself with Hurricane Breaker. 

As you walked out of their tent into the warchief’s house, you started to pace in their living room as you tried to grasp everything and all the components to this huge puzzle and try to figure out how they could be pieced together. 

“What?” Prince Cordene asked. 

“I need everyone’s help. I need to set a trap. That baby’s cloak is a day or two away from coming off. I need to know who this “Zirvush” is.” You explained. 

“Hide in plain sight as a bird then, in a “cage” if need be.” Brock shrugged as you all blinked in surprise. 

“Have Suriel and Prince Cordene hide their legions in the clouds themselves. I’m sure Suriel has a way of hiding them in plain sight too.” Brock suggested as Prince Cordene went to point out how beautifully simple that is.

“Then that only leaves me a day to strike the deal with my grandmother.” You insisted. 

“Uh, actually, let Prince Oriles go get her, he can get her and come back faster than you can. Time is of the essence. And Yana, no need to change into a bird to hide in plain sight, I’ll do that. They’ll be suspicious if they see you in a cage since they already know that you’re free.” Suriel stopped you as Oriles was all too eager to do so before he quickly left and you didn’t think twice as to Suriel’s objections. 

Come morning, your grandma was in the water at the end of the dock as you sat on the end of it and talked with her and she begrudgingly gave Hurricane Breaker their final payment which they happily accepted as well as a gift for yourself. Quite a bit of treasure, a whole treasure trove full, conveniently in another orb. This one was gold in color and carved like it was made out of pure gold with a slot at the top, all you needed was to turn it over and limitless fortune would fall out, like a piggy bank. You thanked your grandmother and offered to go on one last swim with her but she stopped you. 

“No, don’t bother getting any more than those pretty little feet wet Darling, I’ll see you again, probably more than you realize.” She hinted with a knowing grin before she swam away into the dark depths as you mentally chided yourself for being so transparent that even she could see your affection for Brock. But one look over at the builders down the coast building their own harbor, you got a brilliant idea...

[icosmohunters]

chapter six : rival

chapter six of cosmo hunters!

word count : 4.9k words

synopsis : after having arrived at voyage inc headquarters, hope is having to do a lot of work in order to help the pirates protect their fake identities. whilst this is happening, she’s also preparing herself for the meeting being held, and lest forget her best efforts to avoid someone from her past. but it always comes back to haunt her, she realized.

returning to a place that you previously promised never to return to can be one of the most difficult experiences of one’s life, notably for someone like hope.

voyage had changed the last time she was here. it looked as if a lot of funds had gone into fabricating a new interior design for the place. and they actually made use of the twenty stories that this place had, with each level housing a different department, some of which hope has never even heard of.

now, as much as she preferred to be anywhere, excited dawn proposed the idea of looking around before the meeting. hope was all against it, walking around surely meant that she might run into someone she was purposefully trying to avoid. that person, of course, being hiro.

the meeting room had been moved to the fifth floor, but she didn’t choose to take the elevator anytime soon. dawn was gawking and pointing towards everything and it seemed like a lot of effort was required from quinn to keep the girl from running off.

“ hope, why are you walking so fast? ”.

soon, she felt a comforting hand on her shoulder and recognized it to belong to vivienne. the bounty hunter turned and looked at the blonde girl, before shrugging. “ they say the unhappiest of people walk the fastest ”, hope uttered, looking down at her gloved hands and adjusted the cuffs of her uniform.

“ are you unhappy? ”, vivienne quickly claimed. with a tone of utmost interest or care, hope couldn’t exactly tell the difference.

“ have you met me? ”.

“ yes but, not properly ”, was the answer hope was given, which took her by surprise for a moment. she reeled her head back slightly and blinked, before furrowing her brows. “ this personality you give off, i don’t think that’s really you. ”

hope snapped back, “ it is me. you’d just like it to be someone else. and you know what, you’re not the first to wish that. ”

hope has had her few experiences with people who seem to have something against the way she acts. she’ll admit that her temper is unbearable at times and her need to insult others are more like a reflex action than something intentional. but it was how she grew up to be. there weren’t any parental issues growing up. she lived in a loving family, who cared for her and one she adores to this day.

but perhaps what causes this coldness and hostility towards people is her need for freedom and the hatred towards conforming to a standard that she wasn’t fond of. and besides, being like this made it easy to push people away. particularly people who made her life impossible to live.

she wasn’t planning on making friends with anyone any time soon. she wasn’t planning on letting her outer shells melt. she was perfectly fine living in the igloo that was her ego.

possibly the reason she shut everyone out was that they felt like they could dictate to her, as if she was easily influenced to be a sweet, docile person so people can step on her and humiliate her as they pleased.

and she wasn’t going to let that happen. she’s seen what being stepped on can do to a person and she doesn’t want that for herself. so she would much rather encase herself within the walls of nebula and go about her space adventurer way with no distractions, no dictators disguised as friends or morally good figures.

so hope shrugged vivienne’s hand off her shoulder. “ if you think i’m walking too quickly, might i suggest speeding up ”, she spat and continued to walk. at that moment, she wished that she could find creed or be near someone she recognized, she hated being around strangers, hated it.

to be fair, after having that altercation, she preferred to be away from them. she couldn’t afford to get angry in this space, because there were cameras everywhere. and if she so dared to show any aggression, guards would be approaching asking what the problem was.

so she put as much space between her and the pirates as she could. and whilst she was in the headquarters, she thought she could do something she’s been meaning to do for a while. scattered around, there are these tall, rectangle like structures posed as small billboards but they can also be access panels.

going up to one, hope removed her glove and pressed her aching hands onto the glowing screen and saw the blue fade to lilac in an instant. a small dialing pad emerged and she typed her pin in.

these services allowed workers to check their stats. usually, she could do this on her own ship but she’s been continuously distracted for the last couple of days and was unable to do anything.

once the screen had loaded, hope’s profile came up. her picture was on the left-hand-side and upon pressing a cog icon, a tab emerged containing all of her details. but gazing over her birthdate and her hometown, she sought out her bounty points. and her jaw dropped.

“ suck on that, hiro, you motherfucker. ”

“ who are you talking to, hope? ”.

and then her heart dropped.

the girl spun around and found herself face-to-face with the very boy she had just insulted. the boy she had been trying to avoid, the boy who did nothing but annoy her and get under her skin with almost anything he did or said. she’s never met someone who has quite the effect that hiro has on her.

the last time she saw him was roughly two years ago, and since then, he’d changed, grown taller and dyed his hair blue and his skin appeared clear and his dimples were still as deep as ever. but it wasn’t as if he smiled to show them all that much. the eyebrows he frowns all the time looked rather nice, too, except she noticed a piercing. which was unusual.

she hated to admit it but it seemed like he’d gotten handsome. and she hated to admit it considering she wasn’t one to talk about people’s looks at all.

hiro crossed his dense arms over his chest. he was wearing the voyage uniform, except seemingly avoided the long coat and chose the semi-formal one with the high collar. the pilot uniform. hope couldn’t believe that he had continued flying despite always having complained about it for years.

he most likely did it because she was doing it as well.

“ hiro ”, the bounty hunter began and let her gaze travel from his head to his toes before she met his eyes once more. “ you haven’t changed a bit. the fuck is up with the piercing? ”.

“ it wasn’t my idea ”, he replied quickly, rising the very eyebrow he had the piercing on. it complemented his asshole of a personality and made him look like even more a douche.

hope found it weird that he did something that wasn’t from his own free will, “ i didn’t take you for the type of person to listen to others for ideas. ” hiro scoffed and rolled his eyes. “ who’s was it? it had to be your own, you’re egotistical enough to think it’ll look good. ”

“ it wasn’t my id— ”.

“ it was mine. ”

who?

hope looked behind hiro and spotted the figure the female voice had come from. it was a young woman perhaps around the same age as hope, but she got the impression that she could’ve been older based off of the red lipstick imprinting pretty lips. she also wore the voyage pilot uniform that hugged her form quite well, she had a nice figure, slim and healthy with curly, brown locks running down her back.

hope stared for a moment and blinked when the girl then approached her and stood beside hiro, rather proximate. yet that’s when it fell on hope that perhaps this was the companion that creed had told her about.

the girl seemed to take notice that neither hope nor hiro was going to make an attempt at introductions so she quickly stepped forward with a pretty smile, “ i-i’m hina koyabashi. i’m hiro’s flight companion. you must be hope, right? i’ve heard quite a lot about you! ”.

“ by that, i’m assuming it was bad things. ”

hina laughed fairly airly, “ i-i’ll admit, most of it was complaining. but he does talk about you a lot and mostly about when you were both training at voyage together. is it true that you were roommates? ”.

hope rolled her eyes quickly, but not before chuckling slightly. “ yes, we were. i feel your pain to some degree, having to share a space with an arrogant prick ”, she spoke, glaring daggers at the boy.

hiro glared back, “ as far as i’m aware, you didn’t complain too much that time. now you’ve really developed a pirate’s mouth. bounty hunting’s been messing with your incredible lexicon, hasn’t it, hope? ”.

“ you know what, ishikawa— ”.

“ now, now! ”, hina interrupted and hope was glad for a moment. as a matter of fact, she couldn’t understand how a person like hiro managed to get lucky with a companion who was both pretty and somehow peaceful. hope wondered just how many times this girl has kept hiro from getting into trouble, whether it be from his reckless actions or dirty mouth. “ the meeting’s going to start soon. shouldn’t we start going? ”.

hiro seemed willing, mostly because he knew that if he stayed there any longer, hope would start bad-mouthing him. “ please, i can’t stand the smell of this perfume ”, he said and mimicked a gag and hope really wanted to punch him.

“ it’s dior! ”, she snapped.

“ i figured ”, hiro stated with a sigh and started to follow hina but then paused and turned back to hope. “ by the way, who are those idiots? they’re really loud. ” he pointed his thumb over his shoulder and upon peeking, hope recognized enzo seemingly ranting to vivienne but he was so loud, it was unendurable.

hope sighed, “ they’re people i recruited. ”

“ you recruit people no— ”.

“  —yes, i do. fuck off, hiro. ”

he stuck his tongue out at her and she managed to spot a tongue piercing and watched him walk off. jesus, he’d changed. he most certainly looked good but his personality was just as spoiled, perhaps even more.

for years, hope always thought that hiro had a personal grudge against her for some reason. whether it be that she tended to score a little higher than him on the ranks or maybe because she was often favored by creed whilst he treated the others strictly during their time training.

but even if their years in training were long gone, hiro wasn’t fond of the idea of discussing whatever feelings were between them. it was a huge distaste but she never found the origin of it. and quite frankly, if he didn’t want to talk about it, that was fine by her. but if he was going to be an asshole, she would return the treatment!

“ was that hiro? ”, quinn’s voice came from beside her and hope rose a brow and nodded. enzo really couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself, he always had to share them. was gossiping his only talent or something? “ he looks intimidating. ”

“ he’s a childish prick. doesn’t like being even second place and has a personal grudge against me that i will never understand the reason for ”, hope explained. to quinn, she didn’t mind opening up to. and besides, if they saw hiro around some more, she was going to have to tell him about it in case she starts arguing with the blue-haired boy.

quinn hummed, hands behind his back. he was pretty much the most obedient person in that crew but hope didn’t particularly like how quiet he was. as far as she was aware, this guy couldn’t stand her so she wasn’t going to present a friendly persona if the treatment wasn’t going to be returned. universal kindness her ass!

“ but, uh, we’ll be out of here before i can even think about strangling him to death, as nice as that would be ”, said hope once more and shook her head. moving her gaze towards her wristband, she hummed. “ we should start going. ”

quinn spoke briefly, “ the thing is, enzo opted to step out of this meeting thing. it isn’t really for us and we might hear something we won’t like. s-so vivi is choosing to keep enzo out in case he gets angry and starts breaking things. ”

“ you don’t even know if the meeting is about pirates ”, hope said somewhat skeptically. quinn looked down, not replying to her comment. “ but . . . alright, then. as long as you stick to your identities and stay out of trouble, i don’t see why it’ll be a problem. ”

“ we’ll be by the cafeteria, so . . . good luck with the meeting. ”

watching him leave, hope didn’t start moving until the crew had walked off, dawn even turned and gave hope an excited wave and mouthed good luck. in the corner of hope’s eyes, she saw dom turn his head and then saw the bruise, it was purple.

gulping down the guilt, she turned to the stats still on the screen and then logged out of the system, before rushing to get to the meeting.

the headquarters were a maze to the mind of a person who was confused in so many ways. her mind still lingered on the bruise she’d seen on dom’s cheek and how on earth she was going to handle being in the same room as him knowing she’d brought him an injury like that. sometimes, hope really hates her temper. but a part of her told dom deserved it. another part told her she was a true bitch for doing what she did.

taking an elevator down to the fifth floor, hope’s gaze wandered for a while until the doors slid open. stepping out, she found herself in an almost vacant hallway, finding that instead of seeing that circular opening like on the floor she was just on, the walls were closed and long. she wondered just how long it would take to get to this meeting room.

if she could get there at all. creed hadn’t exactly told her where it was and hope didn’t like accessing the system’s mapping system because it often confused her more. and with the lack of people in the hallway, she found that she was going to have to wander until she finds her location.

however long that might take.

hope couldn’t help but whimper under her breath and rub her eyes, she hated the feeling of cluelessness. it often causes an immense panic, especially as someone who often plans ahead, who has everything under control. why did she not follow hiro and hina when she had the chance or asked creed where the meeting room was?

she truly was an idiot sometimes.

“ are you lost? ”.

what does it look like, hope wanted to snap back but the voice was too docile and formal for her to reply in that way. her eyes traveled to the origin of the said voice and widened upon recognizing this person.

this beautiful person. long, dark hair and kind eyes, high cheekbones and a slim figure hidden under a smart voyage agent jacket. hope couldn’t help but notice the pearl earrings she wore and the prettiest necklace resting against her collarbone.

do not panic, hope, but this might be esme lau. unable to reply for a moment, esme offered her a smile, kind and tender before beckoning her over. “ you’re here for the meeting, aren’t you? ”, her voice was perhaps the smoothest one hope has heard, coated in an indescribable sweetness but authority, hope couldn’t explain it without calling her a disney princess. “ i am as well. we can go together. ”

hope gulped and nodded, before letting her head drop into a mild bow. “ t-thank you, miss ”, she exclaimed. she doesn’t recall the last time she’s gotten so flustered over someone but esme lau was kind of a big deal at voyage inc. she rose her head and proceeded to follow her, esme seemed to be in no rush.

“ you can’t come to these meetings too early ”, the woman spoke, as if reading the bounty hunter’s thoughts. “ usually the ones doing the whole thing, the speakers, they don’t even show up on time. usually, they’re ten minutes late. so you might as well take your time, too. ”

hope bit her lip, “ even if the meeting is important? ”.

“ even if it’s important ”, esme repeated and chuckled, her thin arms hugging her pretty figure. “ but anyways, i don’t recall seeing you around. sure, i don’t come out of the office that often but i haven’t seen you. are you new? ”.

it’s a rare thing for esme lau to take an interest in anyone. it’s rarer to see her out of her work and to see her in public. so hope really didn’t want to mess up her chance in talking to the woman. “ i-i’m, i’m not an official voyage member. i had a mild contract. i’m a bounty hunter, my name’s hope ”, the girl explained.

esme’s brow rose. “ bounty hunter? wow, they really called everyone for the meeting ”, she mumbled but then gave hope a charming smile. “ but that’s a delightful name. it’s good to meet you. thank you for cleaning the galaxy for us. the kids on loose these days are crazy. ”

“ tell me about it. ”

“ pardon? ”.

hope quickly caught herself, “ i was hunting someone down just a couple of days ago. uh, you might have heard of him. crimson. he was responsible for the 3019 m-colony blackouts that killed a couple hundred people. well, he was quite crazy. set up toxic bombs as a trap and i fell right into it. ”

“ oh, you poor girl ”, esme gasped, and hope tried not to scream at the gentle hand against her shoulder. “ i hope you weren’t too badly hurt. but that’s exactly what i mean with the crazy theory. power and adrenaline can really get to your head. ” her concerned expression softened. “ but you’re doing god’s work, getting rid of people like that. sure, through barbaric means but there comes a point where jail isn’t enough. ”

“ y-yes, i agree. ”

esme’s hand fell to her side again and hope couldn’t help but notice a rather pretty ring she wore. it seemed to be emeralds, but they had such a unique cut . . . she loved it, though, it was charming and it suited esme. then again anything suited esme.

their walk to the meeting room wasn’t exactly too long. perhaps two or three minutes later, hope’s gaze fell on a double door. one which esme had to open with a pin of some sort. when the doors slid open, hope gasped.

the meeting room was perhaps the largest one she’d seen yet. it was like a lecture room in the universities back home, but it was circular all the way and the stage remained down at the bottom, in the center of the room. it wasn’t exactly too full but it was enough to make hope’s breath to hitch.

esme took note of that. “ the seats aren’t exactly assigned, so you could sit beside me. unless if you have friends here ”, she offered. hope’s heart ached, she was unbelievably kind. esme’s head tilted curiously, waiting for hope’s response.

brown eyes searching, hope caught sight of hina. it wasn’t that hard to spot such a pretty girl in a crowd of plain-looking individuals, and hiro was beside her. so at least she would be dividing hope from jumping on his throat.

but the thought of sitting alongside a loved public figure and get to experience her work up close, it made her nervous but eager. besides, esme was sweet and wouldn’t annoy her like hiro.

mingling with her, though, would look quite uncanny, especially as hope was nowhere as great as esme lau. “ i-i see my friends over there. but thank you for offering, miss lau ”, hope quickly replied.

esme tutted and elbowed the girl on the arm gently, in a very friendly manner that hope wanted to gush over. “ quit being so formal. just call me esme ”, the woman stated but then beamed and nodded. “ but i suppose i’ll see you around. thank you for the lovely talk and walk, hope. ”

hope found herself watching her walking away. her strut was so graceful and she held her head up so confidently but not enough to make her look snobbish. rather, she looked like the most humble person on the surface of the galaxy.

upon drooling over esme for a little longer, hope then took off to take her seat beside hina. before she could even sit down, hina began with the questions. “ were you just talking to the esme lau? ”, she asked hope, eyes wide enough to pop from her sockets.

“ uhm, i ran into her at the hallway. she was nice ”, hope replied.

hina whined, “ i would sell my kidney to meet esme. she’s so perfect. she’s got an iq of two hundred, imagine that! and she’s pretty and kind as well, it’s almost superficial but i can’t imagine her even being mean. ” the girl rested her hand against her cheek and sighed lovingly whilst looking towards the said woman. “ you think she’s married? ”.

“ if she isn’t, she isn’t going to want a ring from you ”, hiro replied swiftly. hina pouted and leaned back onto her seat. hope then paid her own glance towards esme and found her sitting not too far from them, near to the bottom room and she sat among some important looking people, though she stood out the most, possibly because of her visuals or the fact that she was the most relevant person there.

looking away, hope’s eyes went to the different people sat around them. most wore the voyage uniforms, no matter what brand it was. the majority were chattering among themselves, it was like a school assembly with an exciting buzz in the air.

she couldn’t help but let out a small exhale, it trembled for a moment and she regretted not sticking beside esme. because her soothing nature calmed hope’s nerves even if it was a mere smile she gave the girl. now sat among a sea of people, strangers, her fingers started twitching.

beside her, she heard hiro and hina’s voices but she couldn’t exactly make it out. the cacophony of noise engulfed her for a moment, and it was as if her attention was shifting everywhere, at times at the people, sometimes at the stage or down at her lap.

but it seemed like the sound ceased. at some point, she felt something against her ears and looking it up, hope was startled enough to find hiro’s hands shielding her ears. her eyes widened for a moment and she moved to remove them but he smacked her hand away.

“ what are you doing? ”, she hissed. she noticed he’d moved over and switched places with hina, who was curiously looking over with concern.

hiro glared, “ making sure you don’t faint in the middle of a meeting. you’re gonna have to focus, hope. this is important. ” but he didn’t even remove his hands until hope’s hands stopped trembling and when her heart had stopped racing like she was running a marathon.

he saw her facial features soften and then nodded, slowly removing his hands from her and settling back down onto his seat. hope felt embarrassed to save the least. hiro was one of the few people who knew about her nervous antics in crowds when she wasn’t distracted by something else.

at j-colony, she managed to keep calm because of the music and because she was on a mission. here, she was floating in a sea of voices and they weren’t comfortable to listen to. it was loud and messy and not like her music.

frowning slightly, hope simply crossed her arms and tried to relax. but it didn’t work so easily until hiro moved a bit closer and put something in her hand. she opened her hand and found it to be one of those adorable squishy animal stickers with fat belies that you could press and squish and play with. hiro somehow had the cat with the pinkish ears.

“ why do you have th— ”.

“ don’t ask ”, hiro said over her and then paused before clearing his throat. “ it’s my sister’s. i visited her last week and she told me to keep it. ”

“ does it have a name? ”, hope questioned softly.

hiro snorted slightly and looked ahead, “ you can give it one. ”

looking at the squishy toy, hope pressed her thumb against its belly and rubbed it playfully. it was perhaps the best feeling in the world, and the toy was just adorable, she could easily get distracted with it.

“ he looks like a . . . wilson. ”

“ jesus christ, never have children if that’s what you’re going to name him ”, hiro commented with slight alarm, and adjusted himself in his seat before peering down at the toy. “ he looks like a . . . uh— ”.

“  —like a hiro. hiro jr. ”

hiro met her gaze for a moment and rolled his eyes, but hope spotted a slight smile against his lips. “ fine. that’s not too bad ”, he commented. hope sighed and squished the toy again before feeling like the lights had dimmed. her heart sunk but settled at a normal rhythm within some moments.

looking about for a moment, hope noticed that the meeting room had grown increasingly full. to think that most of them were other voyage members. she forgot just how big this corporation was. so after the lights dimmed, a spotlight hit the center stage.

hope was expecting a public figure, perhaps a general or a lieutenant like creed to step on and take over the mic, but her eyes widened when a woman did. and the chatter around her grew tenfold when the lights fell in beatrice yoh, in all her terrifying splendor.

in a white suit, she looked somewhat angelic, but her eyes were hard and her gaze went over the crowd that soon grew quiet. hope found herself gripping the toy a little harder.

“ welcome ”, yoh’s booming voice echoed. hope inhaled deeply. “ i appreciate all of you coming here on such short notice. i am aware that it is a lot to ask many of you to stop your lives and come here. but what i’m about to announce will impact all of us. ”

hope rose a brow when yoh suddenly paused and then stood with her shoulders broad. “ it’s come to our attention, with the increased crime rates around the colonies, that a rising activity has been created. and that we might be looking into a coup d’etat “.

“ holy fuck ”, hope heard hiro mutter beside her. her own brows were furrowed in confusion as the chatter and mumbles around her grew once more. an announcement like this was alarming. she found it weird, for a moment, that yoh mentioned crime rates were increasing . . . she thought that with the number of bounty hunters and officers growing, crime rates were decreasing.

but the woman continued, “ a week ago, it seemed like a particularly pesky group managed to find their way into our base on earth and decorated the place with vandalism after breaking through our security system. they left various symbols on the walls. ” yoh paused. “ and the same thing was just repeated at j-colony two days ago. ”

hope felt like she was going to faint. she had just been at j-colony and to think that she was there possibly when this had occurred. but surely they would have called her in, knowing she was there, knowing she could help, how did nobody tell? how did creed not tell her?

“ whatever the reason for these acts, we’re taking it as a sign of rebellion. or some criminal group trying to attack our ways of living ”, the chairwoman said and looked out into the crowd. hope frowned and gulped slightly, and her thoughts couldn’t help but wander to the pirates.

who were sat outside, waiting for her to return.

pirates she had helped enter the base. giving them false identities. knowing they had bounties on their heads. knowing voyage was probably hunting them.

“ we’re going to find the people behind this. an attack on voyage inc is serious, and whoever is behind it will have to pay with very . . . grave . . . consequences. ”

[beccarooni]

Until the Sun

(A.N: wow, all these people reading my fics and liking makes my heart sing! soon ill do some fluff I swear! This one's not my best but enjoy 💜💚)

Bruce didn't have a good relationship with alcohol. The memories of his childhood still hurt, the stench of whiskey and beer still made his stomach turn and the hairs on the back of his neck raise.

He knew it. The avengers knew it. And Thor definitely knew it. The two had often stayed up long into the night, talking for god knows how long until tears started falling about anything and everything.

He supposed that was why he was so angry when Thor stumbled in one night, leaning heavily against the wall, carrying that smell with him.

"I ask you to do one thing, Thor. One." Bruce kept his distance, the risk of a 'code green' too great to even consider in their apartment. "The one rule I have, and you can't even follow that?"

"I wasn't aware that I was being kept." Thor's voice never crept above talking volume, never loud enough to make Bruce flinch, instead it seemed he channeled his energy into pacing, or rather stumbling, around the living room, hands trying to find balance on any surface they could reach. "Is that why you keep me around? You want a nice Asgardian to be your- what, your exotic pet?"

"Oh come on. Don't give me that. As someone who spent 2 freakin' years as a pet on an alien planet, I can assure you it's not that nice."

"That was Hulk." Thor folded his arms, staring at the ceiling, the ground, anywhere but Bruce. "Not you."

"Yeah, well Hulk's pretty pissed at you, too." Bruce turned to face the window, running a hand over his face to try and quell the rapidly growing spots of green in his vision. "I have half a mind to let him out to shake some sense into you."

"Oh, come on Bruce. It was one time, I barely ever-"

"That's not the point!" Bruce finally turned, the volume of his own voice immediately being enough to make him wince. His chest ached with breaths that just weren't taking in enough oxygen. The walls felt like they were getting closer, and jesus even the feeling of his own clothes brushing against his skin was too much. It was all too much. "The point is...you know what the point is."

Thor stopped pacing, looking at Bruce with a sudden clarity. His eyebrows furrowed in concern, and gradually brought himself to a standstill. Shifting from foot to foot, like he wasn't exactly sure where to go.

"Bruce..." His next few words were careful, chosen with a specific slowness. "You know I would never hurt you, right? No matter the state I was in. I'd rather I die before my hand fell anywhere near you."

Bruce's posture relaxed slightly, although nowhere near as relaxed as he wanted to be. "I know." He said, a little stiffly. Too stiff. He caught Thor flinch out of the corner of his eye.

Despite the smell of whiskey lingering on his breath, Thor's voice was still so quiet, his words coming out in hushed mumbles that was so terrifyingly different to anything Bruce had heard before. He'd expected yelling, cruel words, loud laughter that stung his ears. Not these barely legible mutters, spoken from a man who looked like he was barely managing to stand up.

Thor ran his hand over his face, regret stinging in his eyes as he made his way around him, heading over to the kitchen sink. "Bruce, 'm sorry, okay? I just-" He sighed, staring blankly ahead at the wall in front, looking like he was about a minute away from collapse. "It was the only way to make them stop."

Bruce was about to retort, tasting the sharp words on his tongue, but something stopped him. Maybe it was Thor's voice, the uncharacteristic smoothness failing to blunt the impact of his words. Or maybe it was his posture, the strong, regal stance he usually adopted reducing to a half crumpled state, relying entirely on the kitchen counter to keep him upright.

Bruce ventured forward slowly, enough to make his presence known, at least. "Who's 'them', Thor?"

The way Thor's shoulders tensed at the question led Bruce to believe he wasn't as drunk as he was trying to convey. It was instant, his form freezing, like he was a child who had just dropped a dinner plate and was hoping that being still would somehow camouflage the damage done.

"It's nothing." He whispered, shaking his head. "It's no one."

"Thor." Bruce was insistent now, he was worried. He kept moving forward until he was just behind Thor, placing his hand on the Gods warm shoulder.

"Bruce, please-"

"Tell me."

Another sigh followed, this one more like a deep groaning than the hurried confession prior. This one was a sound of exhaustion that clung to the bones themselves, a feeling of just being so tired that he didn't even know how to object anymore.

His shoulders sank, and he twisted away from Bruce's touch.

"The ghosts. Of Loki, of Heimdall, of everyone." He swallowed, nervously, as if expecting to be scolded. "They don't stop, Bruce. I just see them all the time. And I thought they'd go away if I just..." He shrugged his heavy shoulders, sinking with an abrupt suddenness down until he was sitting on the kitchen floor, resting his forehead against the cabinet. "Doesn't matter. It didn't work. It just made you sad."

Bruce didn't quite know what to say. The feeling of unease hadn't stopped twisting in his gut, coiling and writhing ever since the sharp smell of whiskey on breath began to burn at his nose.

So, he didn't say anything.

Bruce moved to the floor, the sharp corners of the kitchen cabinet digging into his back, and held Thor's hand with a tightness that he hoped would convey all the words he couldn't say. And Thor held back, the air of tension between them lifting with a comforting squeeze of the fingers. The silence wasn't deafening anymore, it was sheltering. The safe kind of quiet that exists behind closed doors, where the world outside was muffled by blankets and warm cups of cocoa.

"I'm sorry." Bruce finally managed to squeeze out, lifting his free hand to run through Thor's hair. When exactly the God had made the move from sitting to laying square in Bruce's lap, he really couldn't say. He could only say that he was grateful for the comforting weight that now lay on his legs.

"Don't." Thor mumbled into his thigh, face turned away from the dim light of the kitchen like it was the sun itself. "It's my fault. I betrayed you. You have every right to be angry."

Bruce lowered his head at that, a small chuckle escaping from his lips despite where his hand was pressed against it to muffle them.

Thor shifted, tilting his head to look up at Bruce with barely conscious offence. "You're mocking me?"

"No, Thor, it's just-"

Bruce cut himself off, suddenly unsure.

What was it?

Because this had hurt him. The memories, however far away they were, still seemed to lurk just beneath the surface.

Maybe it was the fact that Thor, who'd been stabbed, electrocuted, and tossed around, was wailing into his lap as if he'd committed an act of treason.

Maybe it was the twisted irony. Both of them trying to drown out their pasts, yet every attempt only served to stir the memories of the other.

Bruce sighed, holding Thor just that little bit tighter. "Why didn't you say something? I mean, I know my conversational skills aren't great, but I didn't think you'd prefer to pass out in a gutter rather than talk to me."

Thor's hand weakly swatted at him in protest, although the alcohol had clearly gotten to his aim, as his hand met the hard stone of the counter instead of Bruce's shoulder.

Thor yelped, nursing his injury, but pressing himself closer to Bruce's side. "It's not you, Bruce. I just...I was ashamed. I didn't want to burden you, and now look at what happened." He pushed himself onto his hands and knees, nose almost brushing Bruce's. "You're perfect, Bruce. I should've spoken to you."

Bruce blinked, raising an eyebrow slowly. "That was remarkably easy. Are you actually going to follow through on that promise or are you just saying it to shut me up?"

Thor clumsily leaned forward, pressing his lips against Bruce's forehead in a kiss that was surprisingly tender. "I swear it. No more secrets."

Bruce took a steadying breath, as his world finally began to come back together.

"Great." He forced out a whisper, trying to force back the tightness in his throat that he hadn't realised was there. He cleared his throat, shifting to his feet, and extending his hand down to Thor. "Now, come on. Let's get you to bed."

Thor's face lit up in another beaten smile as he took his hand, although it was quick to turn to horror when Bruce set him down on the sofa.

"You are mad at me" Thor grumbled his discontent, although didn't seem to mind the amount of blankets Bruce was piling on top of him."You're putting me on the sofa. I'm in the house of dogs.

"That's the doghouse, Thor. And you're not in there." Bruce propped another pillow under the gods head, meeting his tired eyes with a weak smile. "I just don't want you throwing up on me during the night."

"Cruel, but fair." Thor's eye glinted up at him from beneath one of the more fluffy blankets, his hand peeking out and grabbing at Bruce's wrist. "I am truly sorry for my actions, beloved. It won't happen again, I swear on my honour."

"How are you more Shakespearean drunk than you are sober?" Bruce tutted, shaking his head with a worn smile. He gently set Thor's hand back down on the sofa, leaning over to press a kiss onto the forehead that still burned with that reassuring heat that always seemed to follow the God around. "It's fine, Thor. Really. Just next time, talk to me, okay?"

Thor nodded from beneath the pile. "Okay. Goodnight, Bruce."

"Night, Thor." He pressed his hand in a final gesture against where he guessed Thor's side was, and then headed into the bedroom.

Their bedroom.

Bruce hadn't expected to sleep well that night, because, well, when did he sleep well? Years of all night science experiments fuelled by coffee and rage induced adrenaline had certainly done a number on his sleeping schedule.

But still, something felt wrong. The bed was too wide, too cold, the room itself too silent even with the sounds of distant traffic coming through the window.

He didn't need 7 PhD's to figure it out. The last year of his life the bed had never been cold. His room had always been filled with the sound of snoring, or rain, or random snatches of Asgardian mumbled in sleep.

He swung his feet back over the side of the bed after 3 hours of unsuccessful tossing and turning, draping a blanket over his shoulders as he paused at the doorway to the living room, casting one last glance at the bed behind him.

He moved on, with a small shake of his head.

Neither of them should be alone, not tonight, anyway.

Besides, he'd definitely risk being thrown up on to see Thor's face brighten in a sleepy smile when Bruce scooted in beside him, burrowing under the blankets.

They'd need to talk in the morning. It'd be painful, but it had to be done. The wounds hadn't healed, not completely.

But they could ignore the past, just for now.

Just until the sun rose.